Alina paused across the street, the bar glowing like a living jewel box in front of her. The dress she wore felt like a second skin, a deep, wine-red colour, rich and unapologetically bold, the kind of colour that didn't ask for attention but commanded it.
The fabric flowed heavily from her waist, falling in a graceful, flared shape that moved with her every breath. It hugged her curves just enough to make it clear it was tailored for her body alone, defined at the waist, sculpted at the bodice, the neckline elegant yet daring, framing her collarbones like a whispered secret.
Under the warm lights, the dress looked expensive. Not loud-expensive but quietly lethal-expensive. Her hair fell in soft waves over one shoulder, dark and glossy, brushing against the curve of her neck. A delicate necklace rested at her collarbone, catching light every time she moved. She didn't look overdressed. She didn't look underdressed. She looked like someone who belonged in places people weren't invited to easily. And still she hesitated.
The bar *Obsidian Vault* was nothing like the cafés and quiet places she was used to. Tall black doors framed in gold, guarded by men in tailored suits with expressions carved from stone. Inside, visible through the glass, everything shimmered: crystal lights, polished marble floors, reflections of wealth layered over wealth.
People walked in effortlessly. Men in perfectly fitted tuxedos. Women draped in silk, satin, and diamonds that caught the light like frozen fire.
Alina watched them closely. The way they walked unhurried, confident. As if the world had already opened its doors for them long ago. For the first time that night, insecurity crept in.
Her fingers smoothed over her dress unconsciously, tugging the fabric just a little at the waist, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly, steadying herself. No, she told herself sharply. This isn't about you. This is about the phone. The truth. She cleared her mind to focus.
If the front door wouldn't open for her, she'd find another way. She circled the building, heels clicking softly against the pavement, eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The back of the bar was sealed tight, service entrances guarded, cameras blinking red like watchful eyes. She tried blending in, lingering near a staff door, but security moved before she could even think of testing her luck. Too tight. Too controlled.
After several failed attempts, frustration tightened her jaw. She walked back to the main entrance. The line was shorter now. That's when she saw them.
A couple: clearly rich, clearly comfortable. The man was tall, distracted by his phone, which was in his hand. The woman was elegant, her heels impossibly thin. As they reached the entrance, the woman suddenly stopped, bending slightly to fix the strap of her shoe.
At the same second, the man's phone rang. He turned away, attention instantly stolen. Time slowed. Alina's heartbeat thundered in her ears. This is it. Before doubt could stop her, she stepped forward, smooth, natural, as if she'd always been there. Her hand slid confidently around the man's arm, fingers resting lightly but possessively.
She leaned in just enough to look believable. The guards glanced and saw a couple and waved them through. Neither the man nor the woman noticed. Not until they were inside.
The doors closed behind them, sealing Alina into a world of velvet darkness and gold light. The club was breathtaking. Low chandeliers dripped crystal light like liquid stars. The air smelled of expensive perfume, leather, and something darker and more powerful. Music pulsed softly, deep and slow, vibrating through her chest. Laughter echoed, glasses clinked, shadows moved like secrets passing each other.
The man beside her finally looked down. Confusion flashed across his face. Before he could speak, Alina stopped abruptly, her heels scraping lightly against the marble floor.
She ripped her hand away from his arm and spun on him, eyes blazing.
''Who are you?'' she shouted, loud enough to turn heads.
"And where is my boyfriend?!" Her voice cracked, perfectly angry, dramatic, and convincing. She shoved his arm away and stormed off into the crowd, her dress swirling like a crimson storm.
The man stood frozen, stunned, scanning the room wildly "My—?" he muttered, panic rising as he searched for his partner.
Alina didn't look back. Her pulse raced, breath shallow but steady. Every step deeper into the bar felt like crossing another invisible line. She had made it inside. Now the real danger and the real mystery could finally begin.
The music inside Obsidian Vault throbbed low and slow, like a living heartbeat. Alina stood near one of the marble pillars, her back relaxed, her posture effortless, but her eyes were sharp, alert, hunting. She scanned faces one by one. Men laughing too loudly. Women leaning close, lips brushing crystal glasses. Security posted at calculated distances, hands folded, eyes trained.
She searched for signs: A laptop balanced on a knee. A glowing tablet. A restless thumb typing too fast on a screen. nothing was there. No exposed tech. No nervous glances. No obvious hacker hiding behind neon lights. Her jaw tightened. Whoever hacked that hacker… they're not sloppy.
She moved slowly through the crowd, letting her fingers brush the edges of tables, pretending to admire the décor while her eyes catalogued every movement. This wasn't a place where people worked openly. This was a place where secrets were served quietly, disguised as pleasure.
Then, she heard that sentence. "Go give these drinks to the third VIP room." The words sliced cleanly through the noise. Alina's head tilted just a fraction. Third VIP room.
She followed the voice with her eyes. A staff member gestured toward a corridor lined with darker lights, guarded at the entrance by a sleek black panel embedded in the wall. No handle. No knob. A scanner. Her pulse kicked.
VIP. Private. Shielded. Untouchable. Exactly where someone like that would sit. She slipped closer, pretending to browse a table of drinks, her heart beating faster with every step. The corridor was elegant, quiet....too quiet compared to the chaos of the main hall. Frosted glass doors, faint golden numbers etched into them.
One. Two. *Three.* She stopped. This was it. She reached out instinctively and froze. No manual entry. Only a sleek black card reader, glowing faintly blue. Her fingers curled slowly into her palm. Damn it, she uttered under breathe. Her entire plan hit a wall in a single second. No card, no access and no mistakes allowed.
She stepped back, forcing her expression to remain calm while frustration burned under her skin. She could feel the pressure building, time slipping, opportunity narrowing. Then the lights dimmed. The music shifted. A deep male voice echoed through the hall, smooth and commanding.
"Ladies and gentlemen… in just a moment, we begin tonight's Midnight Masquerade" A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd.
"Please wear the eye masks provided and join us on the main floor."
''Masks'' Alina repeated the word. She turned just as a staff member approached, carrying a wide silver tray filled with masks, black satin, gold filigree, some minimalist, some dangerously ornate. Her breath slowed. Her mind snapped from focus to Distraction...