The main hall downstairs was alive with chaos. *Yahoo!* The crowd roared, bodies crashing together on the dance floor, lights flashing red and gold across sweating skin and raised drinks. Music pounded so hard the floor vibrated, people losing themselves in the beat—laughing, grinding, shouting over the bass. But up here on the floors above, behind thick walls and closed doors, it was another world entirely. Silence wrapped each private room like a blanket. No noise leaked in. No noise leaked out. Just the soft creak of beds, muffled gasps, and the private stories each person paid to live.
In room 208, the story was ours.
