Adrian felt drained. Not physically, but mentally—the kind of exhaustion that built up second by second, each layer heavier than the last. Dungeon runs, cartel decisions, reputation takedowns. He hadn't even had time to sit with it all. As he left CloudSpire Lounge, the cool evening air brushed against his face, grounding him as he walked the pavement toward his apartment.
A voice popped in cheerfully behind him.
"Hey, neighbor!"
He felt a hand tap his shoulder.
Elara.
She wore her usual office look—a navy blazer over a light blouse, skirt just above the knee, and a worn leather shoulder bag slung casually. Adrian, in contrast, had on a black turtleneck under a canvas jacket, his jeans faintly creased from hours of sitting.
He turned, managing a small smile. "Oh hey, Elara. You're out early today. You usually work late."
She chuckled. "You say that like I'm a workaholic."
"That, or you're enslaved," Adrian replied, his tone dry but teasing.
