The receptionist offered Raven Zhao a polite smile.
"Miss, do you have a reservation?"
The lounge buzzed with quiet conversation. Guests filled the sofas and armchairs, waiting for the evening conference to begin. Suitcases stood beside polished shoes, and the soft hum of voices drifted beneath the chandeliers.
Raven adjusted the strap of her bag.
"I'm Raven Zhao," she said. "I don't have a reservation."
She had planned to leave the same day. Her return ticket, however, was still unconfirmed.
The receptionist nodded, her gaze briefly shifting toward the entrance.
Aidan stood there speaking with several men in blue suits, their conversation animated but controlled in the way of businessmen discussing matters that involved too much money.
Understanding flickered across the receptionist's face.
Without another question, she reached beneath the desk and placed a matte golden card on the counter.
"Twenty-third floor. Room 001."
She gestured subtly toward a housekeeper waiting nearby.
"Please escort Miss Zhao."
Raven slipped away again before Aidan noticed. When his brief exchange with the businessmen ended, he marched toward the elevator, two shopping bags in hand.
He stepped into the elevator as another man slipped in behind him.
Jacob, his hotel secretary, dressed in a neat navy-blue suit, nodded in greeting.
"Master, as per your instruction, we gave her the key to your penthouse. She should be in her room now."
"Hmph. You're capable. Expect a bonus this weekend," Aidan said with a faint nod.
The elevator doors slid open at the topmost floor.
Aidan stepped out and walked toward the penthouse—his permanent residence. The corridor was silent, the lights soft against the polished floor.
He approached the door.
The lock scanned his face.
Click.
The door unlocked.
"Shit."
Aidan froze.
He had completely forgotten about the face lock.
He stepped back and slipped into the blind corner beside the wall.
The door opened.
Raven stepped into the hallway, frowning slightly.
"How did the door open?"
She looked down the quiet corridor. Only identical doors lined the floor.
"Perhaps I forgot to lock it," she murmured.
She stepped back inside and shut the door firmly, locking it manually.
Aidan exhaled slowly.
"Sir, wear this mask."
Aidan nearly jumped.
Jacob was standing right behind him, holding out a black mask.
"You scared me," Aidan muttered, turning sharply.
"I was right behind you," Jacob spoke calmly.
"Get lost!" Aidan snapped, snatching the mask from his hand.
Jacob left without another word.
The corridor fell quiet again.
Aidan waited.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Finally, he stepped up to the door and knocked—something he had never done in the ten years he had lived there.
"A minute!" Raven called from inside.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Aidan stood in the hallway, tall and composed, as if he had been expected all along.
"How did you—?" Raven asked, a thousand questions rose to her lips, but he interrupted her and said, "This is the uniform, wear this."
"—something that would go with this."
Raven absentmindedly took the bags from his hand. Before she could say anything, he waved his hand, "Bye."
Before she could say anything, he waved dismissively and turned away.
The corridor swallowed him before she could stop him.