The third floor felt… different.
Not in any flashy way—no gold walls or gaudy displays of wealth. Just quieter. Cleaner. Too clean, actually. The kind of clean that didn't happen on its own in a place like this; someone was maintaining it regularly and deliberately.
Even the guards here were different. No slouching, no bored expressions. They stood straight, eyes forward, actually paying attention.
"…They're trained," I muttered.
"Obviously," Evelina replied without looking back. "You don't run something like this with idiots."
Fair enough.
We stopped in front of a pair of double doors. They didn't look particularly special at first glance, but the material felt sturdier than it appeared—reinforced, probably, with a faint metallic grain that caught the light.
A guard stepped forward.
"Names."
"Evelina D'Arclight."
