Itogami Island, The Port.
Although Itogami Island was known as "the city that never sleeps" thanks to its bustling nightlife filled with Demons, black-market merchants, and bounty hunters, today was somewhat different. The port boiled with unusual activity; its streets and docks overflowed with the roar of luxurious engines and the dazzling glow of headlights reflected on the dark seawater.
Long rows of luxury-brand cars lined a private parking area near the yacht docks. Not a single ordinary vehicle could be seen—none reflected the life of the middle class. Every car stood as a testament to the immense wealth of its owner: from Italian sports cars with metallic glimmers, to overstretched black limousines that nearly brushed the ground, and even armored vehicles with imposing designs owned only by figures of power who never traveled without protection. It was clear that all the attendees belonged to the wealthy, or rather, the absolute upper elite of society.
At the center of all this noise and attention was the Oceanus Grave, a massive vessel that resembled more a floating palace than a simple yacht. It rested on the water with majestic stillness, its white-and-blue lights shining like artificial stars piercing the sea's darkness. Its design blended classical European aesthetics with modern grandeur, golden carvings of waves and phoenixes etched along its sides, as if boasting its identity to every eye that gazed upon it.
This majestic ship did not belong to just anyone—it was owned by Dimitrie Vatler, one of the distinguished nobles of the Warlord's Empire, a man well-known in both political and bloody circles. His presence here was no mere leisure trip, but a formal representation of the Empire itself, casting a heavy aura of seriousness beneath the festive surface.
And despite the ship's foreboding name, Oceanus Grave, the atmosphere aboard was the complete opposite. Classical music interwoven with modern beats drifted through the air, laughter of men and women resounded, and glasses clinked in continuous toasts. The polished floor of the vast ballroom mirrored the glow of crystal chandeliers, while velvet-red curtains around the massive windows enveloped the gathering in a regal, theatrical mood.
Ladies in stunning gemstone-embroidered gowns graced the hall, men dressed in tailor-made suits from the world's top designers, and bodyguards with stern faces stood silently in the corners, their sharp eyes missing nothing suspicious. Amid this orchestrated chaos sat Vatler himself, lounging in his ornate chair at the center of the hall, a cryptic smile etched on his lips as though he were enjoying a grand play of his own making.
Brrrmm!!
Brrrmm!!
Brrrmm!!
At that moment, a sleek black Bugatti Divo rolled slowly toward the port. The neon and floodlights gleamed on its mirror-like surface, outlining its sharp edges as if it were a metallic beast strutting before the crowd. The deep roar of its engine—"Vrrrroooom"—rumbled with authority, commanding attention and turning heads in curiosity and admiration.
Behind the wheel sat a young man, a teenager with sharp features and silver hair that shimmered under the port lights like strands of moonlight. His sapphire-blue eyes were clear as gemstones, cold yet carrying a hidden glint of arrogance. He wore a black suit of fine fabric that caught the light with a subtle sheen, paired with a dark blue tie seemingly chosen to match his mesmerizing eyes. Around his wrist hung a bracelet of white gold shaped like half a heart, dangling elegantly as he moved.
Beside him sat a stunning girl about his age. Her long pink gown wrapped gracefully around her slim figure, and on her chest lay a small white-gold necklace in the shape of half a heart, lending her a touch of innocence and refinement at once. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in silky strands, its curled tips carefully styled to perfection, as if fresh from the hands of a professional stylist. Her shy smile as she gazed out the window was enough to draw every eye to her.
In the back seat sat another girl no less beautiful, her glossy black hair tied into a ponytail that highlighted her slender, pale neck. She wore a dark green evening dress that clung to her soft frame, accentuating the silent bloom of her femininity. Around her neck was a necklace identical to the one worn by the blonde, hinting at a special bond among the three—one that suggested the two girls were both lovers of the silver-haired youth.
As the car came to a halt before the dock reserved for the Oceanus Grave, it seemed that the arrival of this trio had added a new layer of intrigue and allure to the lavish event. Whispers spread among the guests, voices low but brimming with speculation, as they tried to guess the identities of these mysterious newcomers who arrived in a car possessed only by the rarest few of the world's elite.
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