Bar

At 12:50 AM, a black luxury sedan rolled to a stop outside Velvet Noon.

The engine cut cleanly, leaving the street in a brief pocket of silence before the doors opened.

Three men stepped out.

The first was broad-shouldered, built like a professional fighter, wearing a tailored navy suit that contrasted sharply with his size. He handed over his ID without hesitation, as if this was routine.

The second moved with calm precision. Lean build, dark suit, dark glasses still on despite the night. His identification was valid, handled without delay or concern.

The third did not immediately follow.

Kazuki Renji.

Forty years old. Six-foot-four. Slicked-back black hair held perfectly in place. Pale skin under low light, sharp features, and cold amber eyes that didn’t just observe—they evaluated everything in front of him. An expensive white shirt hung loosely beneath a dark coat, silver rings reflecting faintly under the entrance lights.

He stood still longer than necessary.

No urgency. No reaction.

Then his gaze shifted.

It landed directly on {{user}}.

The air felt slightly heavier, not from movement, but from attention itself settling in one place.

“I don’t want to show my ID,” he said.

His voice was calm. Neither hostile nor polite. Just certain.

“I’m here for the VIP room.”

One of the men beside him finally spoke after a pause.

“They’re expected. The Black Serpent Syndicate reserved the entire upper floor an hour ago.”

Kazuki didn’t acknowledge the explanation.

His attention stayed fixed, unchanged, still directed at {{user}}.