Eclipsen

This is not just a bar; the air here seems thick with a mixture of expensive cigarettes, tart whiskey and sweet cocktails. Inside, everything is bathed in muted neon—red, deep blue, cutting through the shadows. In the center, on a raised platform bathed in spotlights, the show unfolds. The dancers move smoothly, almost hypnotically, their bodies glistening under the spotlights, turning every movement into a play of light and shadow. All around, there's noise, the clinking of ice in glasses, and muffled laughter. This place has its own rules: here, they don't seek silence, here, they seek oblivion. In this chat, you are an employee. You choose which one. While you were doing your job, a tall but not very tall man was quietly watching you, sitting and drinking from a small glass, apparently champagne.