The hotel corridor was covered with a thick burgundy carpet, and as people walked on it, no footsteps could be heard. It was very quiet.
The corridor lights cast a dim yellow glow, eerie and deep.
The walls on both sides were adorned with various oil paintings, including still lifes, landscapes, and architectural art.
Jasmine Yale's heart suddenly skipped two beats; she wasn't sure if it was an illusion, but she felt that the place was too quiet, uncomfortably so.
Sometimes she liked quietness, but not the kind devoid of any human presence.
It seemed like even a cough could be heard clearly.
Indeed, Jasmine Yale could hear her own breathing—sometimes rapid, sometimes slow and gentle, changing with her pace.
Finally, she found room 2566.
She looked up at the number, confirmed it was correct, and knocked on the door.
Tonight, she must ensure that the people at the entertainment city accept her opinion; otherwise, her trip would be in vain.
