Vergil appeared in the center of a luxurious penthouse, his feet lightly touching the white marble floor, almost as if he were floating. The space around him overflowed with opulence: large glass windows offering a stunning view of the illuminated city, contemporary designer furniture, and a Persian rug extending across the floor, contrasting with the modern and minimalist environment. The soft golden lights from the lamps reflected the exclusivity of the place.
The atmosphere was calm, but there was something in the air's vibration that told him this wasn't just a simple luxury apartment. In the distance, a dining table was set with lit candles, and a subtle scent of food lingered, as if the host was expecting someone—or perhaps something.
Vergil surveyed the environment with an expression of indifference, as though he was not easily impressed. He walked to the center of the room, his gaze sharp and calculating.
'What a joke,' he thought, noticing something.
