The club was hidden in plain sight.
From the outside, it looked like nothing more than an unassuming façade tucked between two architecturally loud buildings, its entrance discreet, unmarked save for a brushed metal door and a single security camera that never blinked.
No neon. No thumping bass bleeding into the street. Nothing that announced what waited inside. Nothing that drew attention to the caliber of people that frequented it—popular people who craved for normality.
And that was the point.
Beyond the doors though, the air changed.
The music was low and deliberate, a velvety hum that settled beneath conversation rather than drowning it out. The lighting was dim but intentional, warm amber and deep indigo washing over plush furnishings and textured walls.
No flashing strobes. No desperate attempts at spectacle. This was luxury without apology, indulgence without noise.
