That night, when Izan arrived for his usual visit to the Velvet Moon Pavilion, he was met with icy stares from the other patrons. A coldness hung in the air, the usual jovial chatter muted under whispers and glances. Eyes tracked Izan as he moved through the grand hall, and he could hear mutterings that prickled at his senses.
"He thinks he can just take him away?" one patron murmured, his voice filled with frustration. "We haven't even had a taste yet."
"Always winning the bids," another grumbled. "What's the point of trying anymore?"
Izan ignored them, their petty complaints unimportant. His focus was on one thing: Elian.
He wove through the crowd, his stride purposeful as he made his way to Madame Lula's office, his usual first stop to drop off the payment for his evening with Elian.
