Moulin sees the leering eyes from above him. Those group of sleazy gazes intends to strip him bare for their own selfish reasons. Leaning on the poorly built balcony, it almost looked like the wood would snap under the force of their arms and hands. Puffing out clouds of smoke from their mouths, the men chattered with each other and whispered in the ears of the people they imprisoned in their arms. The captives didn't look unwilling either.
Currently, Moulin and the others were led towards the building, three stories high, decorated with the light of orange and red giving off a provocative vibe along with the strange haze that enshrouds it. It appeared to reveal itself from the fog. At least, it is what Moulin thinks. People were walking around the area, some drunk while others looked as if they were stuck in an endless daze, gazing into the hypnotizing red light of the structure. Moulin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Indeed, not a single thing is right about the place.
