The VIP room on the second floor of The Zephyr featured a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a perfect view of the bustling scene in the main hall below.
Damien Valerius stood before the glass, a drink in his hand, which he sipped slowly. With deep, indolent eyes, he casually watched the reveling men and women in the main hall below.
From Damien Valerius's perspective, everyone downstairs—guests and staff alike—was merely scenery for his amusement, existences as insignificant as ants.
Down below, people whose egos swelled just from being able to afford a night at The Zephyr danced with wild abandon. Little did they know that right above them, a true king was watching, regarding them as mere objects for his amusement.
Sean Carter knocked before entering and walked up behind Damien Valerius.
"So, what has my little wildcat been up to lately?" Damien Valerius asked.
