Cold winds crashed against the looming skyscrapers, forcing their way downward toward the pedestrians below. The sudden gusts caressed their skin, sending a pleasant shiver beneath it.
Riding those winds, a figure of a man clad in formal attire stepped out from the halted taxi. Along his path, maidens stood on either side of the steps leading toward the entrance, awaiting his arrival.
From among the group of welcomers, one gestured with his hands, indicating that he would lead the guest.
Shree entered the threshold of Gate 4 and followed him through the hallway. Looking around, he couldn't help but admire the unique artistic choices in every aspect of the décor. They were so captivating that he found himself struggling to maintain a steady pace as he moved forward.
"Sir, would you like your bookings in the art auction after your rest?" the worker leading him asked.
"Not today. But if it's some other day, I might go and see." Shree took a glance at him and continued, "And same fit, by the way."
The last thing he said created an awkward silence between them. Indeed, both Shree and the worker were clad in similar black suits; if not for a few styling differences, they were nearly identical.
'What? I said that to lessen the embarrassment!'
"Your generosity, sir," the man replied, his tone grateful.
'What the hell are you grateful for, you fool?'
Taking a few twists and turns, they finally arrived in the main inner hall of the building—or at least that was how Shree would have described it.
To his left stood a few counters forming the reception area. The leading worker guided him toward it, as he needed to complete some paperwork.
Cursing the formalities and the weird, lengthy commercial language, he was through with it soon.
The receptionist, a delicate young woman dressed in formals, handed him the passkey to his room.
His room, 269, was situated on the seventh floor. In an inexplicable manner, he asked the helper to exit the elevator at the sixth floor. From there they took the stairs to the seventh.
Doing so created suspicion, but he had never come here to play a rat chase. Sometimes it was better to be blunt and quick rather than convincing and paranoid.
As they continued up the stairs to the seventh floor, Shree took notice of the multiple paintings and decorative pieces that hung along the walls. They revealed to him more than just one thing—deeper understanding of the hotel's designer, hidden defense systems, emergency and fire exits, the range of surveillance, and of course, something about his attendant.
'Ink paintings, is it? Well, to be honest, I might agree with you, Mr. Attendant. They surely deserve all the praise.'
"Sir." The attendant stood in front of his room, smiling.
"Ummm…" Stripped of any thoughts, Shree just stared at the awkwardly smiling attendant.
"Sir, your passkey."
Shree jolted, looked for the passkey, and opened the door.
'Yeah… the weirdest guest ever…'
What lay behind that door was straight-up luxury. A foyer decorated with an artificial waterfall contained behind glass on the left wall, its sides covered in reflecting mirrors. Opposite it stood a statue of a bronze Catholic woman, her reflection clear in all the mirrors of the waterfall.
Interesting.
Beyond that was the actual room: a living area, a comfy bed, a small kitchen, and a large balcony that opened onto a view of the Arabian Sea. Not to mention the bathroom—it was a complete ecosystem in itself.
"Would you like a pet, Sir?"
"A pet?"
"Certainly. We can get you a Shepherd, a Doberman, a Shiba… or would you like a cat, a rabbit, a py—"
Shree had had enough of these options. He couldn't bear any more of it.
"None. I would like to rest now, and that's the only plan I have right now."
"As you desire." The attendant bowed and left, leaving Shree alone in the room.
"Hell, it was a long day."
He let the tiredness claim him and fell asleep in the comfy bed.