The glass doors of the central mall opened before Ethan with a hiss of cool, perfumed air. He stepped across the threshold, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt beneath him.
He had been to malls before—the kind on the cheaper side of the city, where kiosks sold knockoff sneakers and the smell of fried food clung to every corner. But this was something else entirely.
The ceiling soared high above, lined with glittering chandeliers that spilled soft golden light across polished marble floors. A glass dome arched overhead, the twilight sky still faintly visible through its perfect panes. The sound of heels clicking and low voices humming filled the air, accompanied by faint classical music drifting from hidden speakers.
Hundreds of shops lined the corridors, each storefront gleaming with light and prestige. Suits displayed in immaculate order. Gowns shimmering like liquid silver. Jewelry glittering from velvet pedestals as though the stones themselves were alive. Even the cafés exuded elegance, with white marble counters and servers in crisp uniforms moving gracefully between tables.
Ethan stopped, his breath catching in his throat. The sheer wealth concentrated in this one building was staggering. Every corner screamed of elegance, of refinement, of money. It was as though he had walked into another world.
And in that world, he was an intruder.
He caught the looks quickly. Passing shoppers, well-dressed in tailored coats and designer shoes, slowed their steps to glance at him. Their expressions were subtle but sharp—raised brows, faint smirks, quick whispers to companions.
It was then Ethan looked down at himself. His shirt, washed until its color had faded, sagged loosely across his frame. The cuffs were frayed. His shoes, though polished, were scuffed at the edges. Compared to the glittering heirs striding through the mall, he might as well have been wearing rags.
Heat burned his cheeks. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched, trying to ignore the stares. He wasn't here to belong. He was here for one thing: a suit.
But each step deeper into the mall was harder than the last. The air itself seemed heavier here, pressing down with invisible judgment.
Finally, after scanning storefronts with growing dread, he saw it: a boutique with gleaming mannequins dressed in suits so sharp they looked capable of cutting glass. The sign above the door was written in flowing script, its name a whisper of luxury known only to the upper crust.
Ethan's stomach twisted. Everything about the place screamed out of your league. But the Twilight Hotel wasn't going to accept him in rags. He had to look the part.
He drew a slow breath and approached.
The boutique's entrance was guarded by a tall man in a perfectly tailored black suit, earpiece coiled behind his ear. The guard's eyes scanned Ethan the moment he came near, narrowing with instinctive suspicion.
"Can I help you?" the guard asked flatly, his tone a barrier in itself.
Ethan froze, panic flaring. He hadn't expected to be stopped at the door. For a heartbeat, he considered turning around and walking away. But the mission's words burned in his mind: Check in tonight with a suit in front of Twilight Hotel.
He couldn't back down.
Swallowing hard, he forced his voice steady. "I—I'm here to buy a suit."
The guard's gaze swept him from head to toe, lingering on the frayed cuffs of his shirt, the scuffed shoes. His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. "A suit? From here?"
Ethan's palms sweated. He knew that look. He had seen it a thousand times at the academy, in the eyes of his classmates, in the smirks of teachers who thought he didn't belong. This man didn't see a customer. He saw a stray dog at the doorstep of a palace.
For a moment, Ethan's mind went blank. His throat dried. Then, with sudden clarity, he lied.
"I'm a driver," he said quickly. "My employer asked me to purchase a suit for him. He'll be coming by later to collect it."
The words tumbled out smoother than he expected. A half-truth wrapped in authority.
The guard raised an eyebrow, studying him. Silence stretched, each second dragging heavier on Ethan's shoulders.
Finally, the guard stepped aside with a reluctant motion. "Make it quick."
Relief surged through Ethan's chest. He nodded once, curtly, and stepped past the threshold before the man could change his mind.
Inside, the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne. The boutique stretched like a gallery, with suits displayed on mannequins under warm spotlights. Dark oak shelves lined the walls, filled with neatly folded shirts, silk ties, polished leather shoes. Every surface gleamed with quiet perfection.
Ethan's steps felt too loud on the polished floor. He kept his eyes forward, resisting the urge to glance around at the sales staff. He could feel their gazes already—the subtle pause in their movements, the whispered exchanges behind him. The weight of disdain pressed against his back with every step deeper into the store.
He didn't belong here. The thought screamed in his mind with every heartbeat.
But he forced himself onward, jaw set. He had money in his account now—more than any of them could guess. Whatever they thought of him didn't matter. He wasn't here for their approval. He was here to survive.
Near the center of the store, he found them: three suits displayed on a rack, neatly arranged by size. His size.
The first was a deep crimson red, the fabric catching the light like flowing wine. Ethan frowned. Too flashy. Too loud. He couldn't imagine walking into Twilight Hotel wearing something that looked like it belonged on a runway.
The second made his stomach clench. A midnight black suit with a subtle sheen, its lines perfect, its fabric whispering wealth even from a distance. A small tag hung from its sleeve: $50,000.
Ethan's mouth went dry. Fifty thousand. He had the money now—he could buy it. But the number still stabbed at him, years of hunger and counting pennies screaming at the absurdity of it.
The third was simpler. Charcoal gray, elegant without being ostentatious. Its cut was clean, precise, and though still expensive, it lacked the suffocating weight of the other two.
Ethan's hand lingered on its sleeve.
He was so focused on the suits that he didn't notice the silence behind him growing thicker. The sales staff had stopped pretending to work. Their eyes followed his every move, their expressions carefully neutral but edged with disdain. To them, he was a stray who had wandered in, fumbling among clothes he couldn't possibly afford.
Ethan felt their stares prickling against his skin. His throat tightened, his palms clammy. But he didn't let go of the suit.
He couldn't.
The mission demanded it.