The grand auction hall was a decadent, candlelit chamber filled with wealthy, shadowy figures whose faces were obscured by masks. The heavy scent of aged leather, polished wood, and rare wines wafted through the air, creating an intoxicating blend that made the dream world almost oppressively real. Ayan, disguised with a scar across his cheek and dressed in a tailored black suit, stood at the head of the room, exuding an air of casual dominance.
A rich voice echoed in his earpiece. "Ayan, two new entrants just arrived—likely Collective members," Vlada whispered, watching from a hidden vantage point on a balcony above the hall. "They're hovering by the doorway. Stay sharp."
Ayan's eyes flickered toward the entrance, catching a glimpse of the newcomers. Their demeanor was sharp and observant; they were sizing up the environment, calculating risks.
