The Floating Life Kyoto Club is the lion in this steel jungle.
Its facade is spacious and exquisite, clean and tidy, with no messy buildings overhead and around, forming a large "courtyard well."
The air is filled with the scent of perfume and alcohol.
John walked through the alley, staying in the shadows, his hands in his pockets as he scrutinized the club across the street.
A dark gray carpet extends to the curb, adjacent to a large parking lot, with high-class thugs in suits visible everywhere.
John could imagine:
Customers shuttling back and forth day and night, leaving their private cars and autonomous taxis, gathering on the carpet at the club's entrance under the shadow of city buildings. Giant billboards floated with tantalizing lines, ear-splitting music overshadowed conversations and ordering processes, front desk attendants with behavior chips used patient and seductive voices to verify clients' accounts, selecting fetishes and sex dolls...
