John didn't take a detour to admire the night view.
Instead, he returned to his apartment through the basement.
The underground of the Bolago Club was interconnected.
Between areas, there were biometric checkpoints, and passing identity verification meant reaching the VIP area.
The environment here was clean, facilities complete.
The iconic Black Gold Gang graffiti on the walls were meticulously crafted—with special paints and hidden light strips pieced together, equipped with holographic projections that could pulse in time with hidden speakers.
Silver Rider sports cars weaved through the throbbing music.
John could feel the buildings vibrating even through the car windows, everywhere he looked were shiny, high-class sex dolls and brawny security in suits.
Luxury cars creaked on the maintained floors.
Those graffiti symbols, flashing projections, and even the stimulants mixed in the air were all triggering the deepest desires of the customers.
Too noisy.
