In a grand hall with exquisite tiling, a bunch of elegantly dressed folks mingled, each clutching a sparkling crystal glass of the finest champagne. Above, countless candles in the ceiling shed a warm glow over the stage, giving the room a dazzling vibe. Laughter filled the air, faces lit up with smiles, hugs and toasts came one after another, as a captivating tune from a piano man on stage drifted through, the precise notes almost dancing around the room. The whole scene was stunning.

Zak pushed through the big double doors into the space, the sound of chatter hitting him like a wave.

"Wow, there are tons of people here!" he blurted out as he instinctively adjusted his duster, letting it fall just so over his holstered guns, ensuring they were hidden beneath the fabric. He weaved through the crowd, feeling eyes on him. Some gave him curious looks, their eyes quickly scanning his rugged outfit with slightly raised eyebrows, momentarily pausing their conversations.

Eyes on us. They think we’re wrongly dressed! I can’t fathom why miscreants always choose to dress as virtuous people. I’ve got to find the bar, I need a drink.

He set off to locate the bar, scanning the crowd, catching snippets of conversation—talks of politics, whispered secrets, promises to dance—all blending into an overwhelming noise that tugged at his concentration.

"Where on earth could it be?" he wondered out loud, eyes narrowing at a gilded archway across the room.

“Fancy drink is not my thing!” he said, waving away a young guy holding a silver tray, the glasses clinking.

He should know, we’re not dressed like these people.

“Finally, there’s the bar!” he exhaled, a small, relieved grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He headed towards the shiny counter, noticing other guests—a couple whispering and smiling at each other; an older gentleman nursing his drink with a distant look in his eyes.

Behind the bar stood the bartender, a formidable man with a dark coffee complexion and a shaved head that gleamed under the chandelier’s light. His wide shoulders were bound by leather belts that stretched from his waist to his shoulders, and there was an aura about him—part intimidation, part intrigue. Zak’s eyes flicked to the man’s hands, broad and calloused, a sign that this was no ordinary bartender.

Zak’s fingers drummed on the counter before he settled onto the stool, shifting his weight just enough to keep an eye on the room.

“Whiskey, please.” he said, his voice low and deliberate.

The bartender gave a small nod, reached for a glass, and set it on the polished surface before Zak. The bartender reached out for the drink, clink of bottles echoed as he started pouring the amber liquid into the glass.

This man should be at the door, he has the profile to be a phenchman. We need to be careful.

“So, what brings you to this party?” the bartender asked, his voice deep, almost rumbling. His eyes, shallow and observant, left Zak as he replaced the bottle on the shelf behind him.

Zak scoffed under his hat shadow, his hand lingered on the edge of the glass, hesitated on his response. He took off his hat, offering a benevolent smile that softened his rugged features.

“Do you always extend this kind of courtesy to all your customers?” he replied sarcastically, striving to appear calm, though his pulse quickened at the subtle tension in the bartender’s tone.

The bartender gave a wide smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Only to those who venture to this table,” he said at ease, crossing arms under his intimidating chest muscles.

Zak chuckled lightly, the sound tight in his throat.

“Ah, I see. I should retire, then.” he said decisively and swiftly emptying his glass, the burn trickling down his throat like liquid fire.

A low laugh rumbled from the bartender.

“In a spot like mine, it’s rare that one doesn’t notice a newcomer. And between you and me,” his eyes narrowed with a hint of playful suspicion,

“you haven’t dressed like someone coming to a lavish party. I had seen people like you, same stool and same look of the surrounding.”

Zak chortled, rested back, relaxed his shoulders.

“What kind of people is that?” he asked.

The bartender’s smile deepened, a crease forming at the corner of his mouth.

“All I can say is that you’re here for a purpose, sir. Perhaps an officer of the law or a soldier on duty. I observe your watchful, strategic gaze on your surroundings. A mission, perhaps? Or a personal quest? I confess I’m still in the dark.”

Zak’s lips twitched with amusement, masking the spark of tension that coiled in his chest. With a friendly smile, he replied,

“Ah, you’re very perceptive. But don’t worry, I’m not a mystery trust me. Next time , I’ll dressed like your folks, stay away from your bar so that you can spare me any amicable questions.” he said, letting his gaze wander again to the crowd, catching the subtle movements of another guest eyeing the bar. Dropping a few banknotes on the polished surface of the bar, he stood, smoothing the brim of his hat as he set it back in place.

“Farewell, my astute friend,” he said, flashing a smile as he turned on his heel, the hum of the party enveloping him once more.

As Zak walked away and melted into the party goers , his inner monologue continued,

It would seem that appearances are deceiving. Maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all. But let’s not jump to conclusions. What’s our next course of action? For the moment, I don’t know. We must continue observing events.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of faces lost in conversation and laughter.

But are we sure that the target is here? No drawing, no names... just “He will be present at the gala, a coverage to sell his weapons!” How can the Beligram gendarmerie, have such an unshakeable conviction about a ghost? Somehow they know about this party, the exact day, the exact place, I don’t know why you still not convinced. I hate moles! No you don’t, I hate moles. And if it was a mole why, he didn’t give a name or a profile? Likely the informant didn’t know him in person. Many mystery on this hunt! Yeah, it makes it exciting...now shut up and let me think.

The faint clinking of glasses and bursts of conversation surrounded him. Zak move among the folks in lively fest, he tries to avoid curious eyes pointing on him. Deliberately grabbed a champagne glass, to blending. As the darkness outside falling upon the town, guests keeping coming, the hall becoming more crowded.

Zak felt a need of action,

We should investigate the kitchen...Why should we do that? Maybe there’s a passage to a hidden basement. Because history has shown us that it’s often the case. Let find the kitchen then.

He was decisive as a young woman in red dress, with a wide ornated red hat charmingly addressed him a smile that he returned raising his glass of champagne and swiftly disappeared among behind people travelling to another side of the hall.

Take a look! How suspicious! Two gentlemen diligently attending a door. That’s where service is coming from! Why do we need guards for a kitchen? Ha, I told you! It’s the perfect time for an intrusion.

Zak thought as it was announcing the beginning of the real party and the piano tune shifted to lively melody notes.

Zak leaves the middle of the gathering to join a side less clustered, a spot he’s has clear view on the kitchen entrance. The two men suit up in black attending the door, have they eyes sharp on the guests. The use of this part, remains obviously unauthorized for ordinary guests, so Zak rapidly considered the need for a diversion. He spotted a tray server coming in his direction, strode to her encounter and deliberately bumped into her. Glasses shattered against the tiled floor, the young woman at the unnoticeable push of Zak, fall at the brusque impact and a few heads turned and gasps erupted around them.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Damn, you’ve soaked my outfit,” he exclaims, his voice tinged with irritation that felt real enough to stir glances.

You playing it too much don’t you think?

“I beg your pardon, sir! I really didn’t see your approach!” pleads the young woman, her wide eyes filled with panic and pain as champagne dripped from her sleeves as someone muttered,

“What a mess.”

Now the guards have our attention.

The two guards at the kitchen entrance, stood watching the scene without any motions,

“Hey big guys, can’t you see this young lady can use some assistance?” Zak said loud. The men, eyes on them felt compelled as they walked from the entrance to help the young woman up.

“I need to clean this mess!” Zak’s voice boomed, striding to the kitchen door minutes the guards get by the young woman.

Enter bad guy’s kitchen mission, successful!

“Where’s the kitchen?” he asked a hurry line of service attendants trailing in the alley.

A young woman gestured towards the kitchen entrance, but before Zak reached there, he noticed another different line of servers, those are dressed differently and going out through to another door. He scanned the kitchen swiftly as he’s passing noticing uniformed staff rushing between counters and the underlying tension in their movements. The hall noises are completely drowned by the clatter of pots or other kitchenware and the chatters of the kitchen occupants as Zak didn’t stopped heading quickly towards the other service door.

What kind of party you think is going behind this door? We’re about to find out my friend.

Zak pushed the door open, and a heavy scent with smoke engulfed him like a sandstorm—smoke from cigars mixed with sweat and a lingering perfume that clutched his senses. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering light from chandeliers dripping with wax, their elaborate frames casting shadows that seemed alive, the room appeared to glow with a dreamlike intensity. The space was adorned with opulent yet disordered luxury: red velvet drapes with frayed edges hung between golden sculptures, and low, dark-stained tables were scattered across the floor, and golden-framed couches with red cushions. The atmosphere was filled with heat, movements.

The first thing Zak noticed, was the overpowering sensuality and intensity of the room—the air weighted with the musky scent of both people and indulgence. Surrounding him were unclothed bodies some males figure but mostly women, their bodies were confidently exposed, with curves swaying as they moved about with, an unrestrained rhythm, firm breasts with dark or red, round nipples. A few displayed coarse hair under their arms and below abdomen, adding a wild naturalness that matched the room’s untamed energy. The room buzzed with an erotic energy, a disordered mixture of moans, laughter, and hushed wishes, with every spot occupied by flesh and warmth.

Zak’s attention shifted to a group, where a lean, muscular woman was pouring drinks. Her long, toned legs stood out as she moved among the guests, along with another woman who was curvier and stripping, her soft thighs and striking red curls cascading over her shoulders and back. The rich red of her hair sharply contrasted with her smooth, pale skin, glowing under the dim lights, with her pubic hair matching her fiery locks. Her skin shimmered with sweat, and her laugh, like a melody, pierced through the loud buzz of the room.

...her energy, wow, she’s beautiful! What’s this place? Zak! Zak, come back to reality, the guards will probably come for us. I’m in reality...or am I dreaming? You need to focus, look the people here are dressed differently! You mean like us.

The people here wore light outfits, with their clothing as diverse as their weapons. Dust coats were frequent choices, but some were clad in patchwork armor or suits, while others lounged without shirts, displaying scars and tattoos that told tales Zak had no interest in hearing. One man was sprawled on a sofa with a red cushion framed in gold, a cigar hanging loosely from his mouth as naked women sat astride him, their hands gripping his shoulders, swaying their hips.

Zak’s gaze drifted further across the room, where he caught sight of entangled bodies on a large bed against the wall. The candlelight highlighted skin in shades ranging from bronze to dark brown to pale, and everything in between, as men and women intertwined in a frenzied dance of kisses, touches, and quiet laughter. Nearby, a shallow pit carved into the floor staged a similar scene, where bodies lay tangled together in oil, their limbs blurring in movement and shadow.

We need to blend in, the guards will come for us!

“What the hell,” Zak whispered to himself with smile, his eyes walking on the women, his body responding to urges, his heart pounding steadily. The raw energy in the room was both overwhelming and almost alluring. Thinking quickly, he moved toward a passing server, grabbing a glass from the tray she carried. The amber liquid burned as it went down, but its warmth steadied him.

Before he could proceed further, two women approached him with keen, inviting eyes. One was tall and slender, with deep, lustrous brown skin and firm small breasts topped with dark, erect nipples. Her hair was cropped short, highlighting the sharp contours of her face. The other woman, shorter and curvier, wore a shy smile. Her chestnut-colored skin softly glowed as she moved, her wide hips swaying with each step.

Without speaking, they each took one of Zak’s arms and led him to the nearest couch. He sank into it, and the shorter woman settled on his lap while the taller one pressed against his side, her breath warm against his neck. Their hands explored his chest and shoulders as if they were familiar lovers. Despite his racing pulse, Zak willed himself to appear relaxed.

All of a sudden, he spotted one of the guards from earlier scanning the area. Zak nonchalantly adjusted his hat and held the woman on his lap closer, reclining into the red cushion to create the appearance of a man fully caught up in the moment. The guard was inspecting the room, evidently searching for someone—most likely Zak himself.

The guard’s gaze roamed over the crowd, evaluating faces, but Zak, easily blending in with the others, stayed focused on enjoying the moment, maintaining a relaxed demeanor despite his quickening pulse with every sweep of the guard’s eyes. Zak’s eyes remained steady, although his body tensed amid the women’s touches. The guard moved past him, seemingly without recognition, allowing Zak a sigh of relief as the guard headed to the room’s far end.

Zak observed as the guard approached a doorway he hadn’t noticed before, where two more guards stood. The guard spoke with them, possibly asking questions that Zak couldn’t hear. Intrigued, Zak watched closely. This seemed to be another private section of the building. Guests approached with something in hand, presenting it to the guards, who paused to inspect it before allowing entry. Zak’s attention shifted, his pleasant distraction overtaken by interest in the mystery behind this entrance.

As he continued to observe, he noticed a routine. Each person handed a red ribbon to the guards. The ribbon looked soft, like velvet. The guard examined it, there was a brief exchange, and then they returned the ribbon with reverence to the person, who was then allowed to enter.

Zak’s heart rate increased, not because of the touches from the women with him, but due to the intrigue of the entrance and the potential of nearing his target. He felt a mix of adrenaline and desire, but he recognized the urgency of his mission.

While he continued to watch, the other guard, who had been searching the room, gave up and returned to where he came from. The party was rocking around him, and suddenly a man appeared behind him, speaking softly near Zak’s ear. Neither Zak nor the women beside him noticed the man’s approach, and his presence was startling.

“When was the last time you saw the sunrise?” the man whispered. Zak turned, puzzled by the unusual question, but the man was already walking away.

“Nowhere,” he added, vanishing into the crowd before Zak could respond.

Who the hell was this man? How am I supposed to know? What he said...

Zak tried to make sense of the encounter and pursue the man but was hindered by the women’s hold, losing sight of him. When Zak spotted him again, the man was already at the guarded entrance, presenting his ribbon and exchanging words with the guards. Zak realized, the ribbons were the key to entry. Now he knew he needed one for himself.

Zak felt a rush of thoughts as he looked around the room, while the women with him snuggled closely without pause.

How do we get a ribbon?

As time went by, other guests experienced the same entrance procedure. This red ribbon is the key for entry, and he needed to get one. Meeting the mysterious man again also depended on gaining access inside.

As he scanned the crowd, he noticed a man leaving the secret room and approaching the bar.

This might be our chance, get rid of those women, Zak!

Zak gently nudged the women aside, saying softly,

“Pardon me, ladies, but I have urgent business to attend to.” Reluctantly, they allowed him to leave, their enjoyable moment with him coming to a close.

Swiftly, Zak moved with determination. As he got close to the man, he deliberately bumped into him. The man stumbled slightly, caught off guard.

“Watch it!” the man exclaimed with irritation.

Zak quickly apologized,

“I’m sorry about that.”

The man grumbled, seemingly not bothered, and continued toward the bar.

Zak didn’t linger. As the man walked away, Zak shifted his attention entirely. With a clear objective, he headed straight to the secret entrance. He had a plan now and couldn’t waste any time.

Upon reaching the guards at the entrance, Zak presented the red ribbon. One of the guards took it from him and slowly ran his fingers over it, inspecting its texture to ensure its authenticity. As he did this, he locked eyes with Zak, his gaze penetrating and cool.

Zak, however, remained calm, meeting the guard’s stare with equal firmness. His expression was serene, his eyes steady as the guard finished the inspection. Without a word, he nodded once to his partner, who then looked at Zak.

“Sir, when was the last time you saw the sunrise?” the guard questioned.

The mysterious man’s question is a code... nowhere!

Zak composed himself, took a moment, and then answered,

“Nowhere.”

The guard acknowledged the response with a brief nod, appearing satisfied.

“Sir, welcome,” he said, stepping aside to allow Zak through.

Zak walked past them, relieved, into a narrow hallway that stretched ahead. He moved through the dimly lit corridor, the sound of his footsteps echoing. The air felt heavy and oppressive, and Zak sensed the secrecy it held. He reached a staircase nearly at the end of the hallway, heard sheers coming from below and descended it, his boots making soft thuds on the steps.

At the bottom, he entered a small space dimly lit by light coming from a wide, doorless doorway ahead of him. Zak hesitated for a moment, his instincts flaring. The hum of voices seeped through the gap, coaxing him forward. His steps were cautious as he entered.