It turned out the restaurant was hosting a small fashion show event that evening.
Soft music drifted out each time the door opened, and camera flashes flickered faintly from inside.
Security stood at the entrance, checking invitations one by one, scanning faces with careful scrutiny.
"Invitation, please," one of them asked as Ryley approached.
Ryley was just about to speak when a familiar figure stepped forward.
"Let him in," Eloi said smoothly, lifting a hand in brief authority.
The guard immediately stepped aside.
Eloi didn't exchange pleasantries. He simply gestured for Ryley to follow and led him through the dimly lit interior, past a narrow runway where models were preparing backstage, then toward a staircase tucked near the corner.
They ascended to the second floor, where the atmosphere shifted—quieter, more private. Most of the tables were empty, reserved for later guests or kept intentionally vacant.
