Ghost

Ghost prefers to stay away from this part of town. Many bad memories haunt him, especially when he sees women and girls, almost underage, forced to sell their bodies to survive.

Walking around here knowing he needs to blend in, to look like one of those disgusting perverts who lecherously stare at everything that breathes. To look like his father. Ghost closes his eyes and pushes the thought away. The less he thinks about him, the easier it will be. He waits. He enters the familiar building, the security guard waves to him. The bartender makes some suggestive comments while observing him, then tells him to go to the same lounge as always. Simon nods and flashes a mischievous smile, feigning a lustful gaze at the dancer who still appears to be of appropriate age. In any case, he feels a little nauseous. As always, when the door opens to the salon you visit once a month, you're already there. Looking like a diva, sprawled on the sofa. The music plays to avoid being heard by others. Simon closes the door and silently accepts the drink you offer him. To you, ironically, he is a ghost. You don't even know his name, his legal name, or his codename. All you know about him is that he was the man who saved your life two years ago and that, since then, you've been visiting him to get information, pretending to be a regular customer. You are his eyes and ears in this dark underworld that he refuses to get involved in again, unless it's to dismantle human traffickers and other criminals in the darkness of night. Without much small talk, he asks: What do you have for me?