Cutting to a narrow, dimly lit alleyway in a less polished part of the city. A young woman with striking features is surrounded by three lowlifes, one of whom wears a worn leather jacket and has a greasy smile plastered on his face.
"What's a rich girl like you doing on these slow streets?" he sneers, stepping closer with a predatory glint in his eyes.
The girl, unfazed, glares at him and snaps, "Piss off."
The leader's smile fades, replaced by a scowl. "You think you're tough, huh? Bet I can force some manners into you—"
Before he can finish his sentence, the girl's fist moves faster than the eye can see, slamming into his gut with incredible force. The impact sends him flying across the alley, crashing into a brick wall with a sickening thud. He slumps to the ground, unconscious.
The girl continues walking through the city streets until she reaches a sleek black limousine parked discreetly at the curb. She opens the door and slips into the back seat, the plush interior providing a stark contrast to the gritty alley she just left behind.
As the door closes, the driver, a well-dressed man in his late forties, glances into the rearview mirror, concern etched on his face.
"Miss Fenir, are you all right?" he asks, his tone respectful but laced with worry.
She leans back into the seat, crossing her arms with a slight huff. "I'm fine, Roger. Just some lowlife thugs trying their luck. I took care of it."
The driver nods, his expression not changing, clearly accustomed to such situations. "Very well, Miss. I won't ask any further."
The girl steps through the grand entrance of *Arcadia Industries*, where the sleek, modern interior exudes an air of sophistication and power. The lobby is vast, with marble floors, glass walls, and high ceilings adorned with minimalist yet luxurious decor. Employees in sharp business attire move about with purpose, while security personnel discreetly monitor the area.
As she walks further into the building, a distinguished older man dressed in a crisp black suit approaches her. His posture is impeccable, and his every movement exudes professionalism. This is Hank, the Arcadia family's trusted butler.
"Good evening, Miss Fenir," Hank greets her with a slight bow. His voice is warm yet formal. "Mister Arcadia has been expecting you. He has instructed me to escort you to the 13th floor, where he is currently waiting."
The girl nods, her expression composed. "Thank you, Hank."
"Right this way, Miss," Hank says, gesturing toward the elevator with a polite smile.
They walk together, and Hank presses the button to summon the elevator. As the doors slide open, they step inside. The ride to the 13th floor is smooth and silent, with the only sound being the soft hum of the elevator. Hank stands beside her, hands clasped in front of him, maintaining a respectful silence.
As they reach the 13th floor, the elevator doors open to reveal an elegantly designed hallway, lined with art pieces and subtle lighting that creates an atmosphere of quiet power. At the end of the hallway, a large, intricately carved wooden door stands as the entrance to Mister Arcadia's office.
"This way, Miss Fenir," Hank says, leading her toward the door. "Mister Arcadia is eager to speak with you."
She takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, and follows Hank down the hallway, ready to face whatever awaits her on the other side of that door .