Morning came too early.

The alarm buzzed like a curse. Ryan groaned, forcing himself to stand. Every muscle screamed in protest, but he went through his routine anyway — shower, toast, bag.

By the time classes ended, the sun had already started dipping toward the horizon again, casting a warm orange glow across the campus.

He knew what came next.

[System Reminder: Side Quest 2 — Destroy Hideout: "The Small Club."]

Ryan pulled his hoodie up and tightened his mask around his face as he stepped out of the school gate. His reflection flashed in a shop window — dark hoodie, calm eyes, steady stride. He looked less like a student and more like a shadow.

The walk wasn't long. The club was only a few blocks away — tucked behind a line of old buildings, neon signs buzzing faintly over the entrance. The music inside was loud enough to make the ground vibrate.

Ryan stood outside for a moment, hands in his pockets, staring at the glowing sign that read _Nexus Club_.

He took a deep breath. "Alright," he muttered to himself. "Second round."

He pushed the door open and stepped in.

The air hit him immediately — thick with perfume, sweat, and alcohol. The bass from the speakers was heavy enough to make his chest vibrate. People were everywhere — laughing, drinking, dancing under flashing red and blue lights.

Ryan kept his head down, slipping through the crowd like a ghost. He scanned the room — two exits, a bar on the left, a small hallway near the back. Two bouncers stood there, both tall and wide, guarding a door that clearly wasn't for guests.

His target.

He moved toward it, trying to look casual.

One of the guards turned as Ryan approached. "That area's restricted," he said, his voice loud even over the music.

Ryan froze mid-step, forcing a small awkward laugh. "Ah—sorry, man. I was just looking for the washroom. I think I took the wrong way."

The guard eyed him for a second, then pointed toward the corner near the bar. "It's there."

"Oh—right. Thanks, bro. My bad," Ryan said, scratching his head sheepishly before walking away.

Once he was inside the washroom, the noise dulled — the thumping bass fading to a muffled rhythm through the walls.

Ryan walked over to the sink, staring into the mirror. His reflection stared back at him again — same tired eyes, same determination.

He slapped his own cheeks lightly and whispered, "Lock in, Ryan. Focus."

His voice was steady but quiet.

As he leaned forward, something caught his eye in the reflection — a small glint of gold near the toilet seat.

He turned his head, frowned, and walked over. A card was lying just beside the toilet tank, half-soaked but still readable. He picked it up carefully.

It said **VIP** in bold gold letters.

Ryan blinked. "No way…"

He turned the card over. It was clean on the back, no name, no number. Just the letters and the small emblem of the club.

"System," he said under his breath. "Will this help me get through that door?"

[System: Yes, Host. The card grants unrestricted access to the private area of the establishment. It will definitely help.]

Ryan grinned faintly, holding up the card. "Finally, something that goes my way."

He slipped the card into his pocket and walked out of the washroom, heading back toward the guards.

When they saw him approach again, both of them tensed slightly. But when he pulled out the VIP card and flashed it in front of them, their expressions changed instantly.

They bowed slightly. "Our apologies, sir. Please, go right in."

Ryan nodded curtly, keeping his tone neutral. "Thanks."

The heavy door opened with a soft click, and he stepped inside.

The change was immediate. The noise outside faded as the door shut behind him. The lighting inside was darker, warmer — red-tinted lamps and sleek furniture. Expensive couches lined the walls, and faint jazz music played in the background.

The air smelled of cologne and cigarette smoke.

It wasn't a club anymore. It was something else — something private.

Ryan's eyes flicked around, taking everything in. His instincts buzzed. Something about this place was off — too quiet, too polished.

Then he saw it — a small, half-hidden door near the end of the room. It looked out of place. Different wood, different handle. Two men in suits stood in front of it, guarding it like hawks.

Ryan frowned slightly under his mask. _A secret room…_

He didn't move toward it. Not yet. His mission wasn't about curiosity — it was about the target.

He stepped closer to one of the couches. Before he could decide what to do next, one of the guards turned toward him and spoke.

"Sir," the man said politely, bowing slightly. "Please have a seat. Our boss will be arriving shortly."

Ryan froze for a second.

His mind ran wild. _Their boss? He's coming here?_

He forced his voice to stay calm. "Alright," he said simply, walking over and sitting on the edge of the couch.

The leather was cold against his back. His heartbeat picked up, slow but heavy.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, glancing at the guarded door again. The jazz music played quietly in the background, filling the silence.

He could feel the tension crawling across his skin. Something big was coming — he didn't know what, but he knew it wasn't going to be simple.

The System's faint hum appeared in the back of his mind, as if it could sense his thoughts.

[System: Host, proceed with caution. Unknown entities detected beyond this area.]

Ryan's gaze stayed locked on the door. His voice came out quiet, but steady. "Yeah," he muttered. "I can tell."

He leaned back slowly, fingers twitching slightly in anticipation.

The guards straightened their posture near the door.

Ryan could hear footsteps — faint at first, then growing louder, closer.

Someone was coming.

He didn't know who. He didn't know what kind of monster or man would walk through that door.

But whatever it was, Ryan knew one thing — he had to be ready.

The doorknob turned.

The music stopped.

And Ryan's heartbeat echoed louder in his ears than anything else.

The door began to open.

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