Night was falling over the city, plunging it into momentary darkness. Until beacons of hope, joy, and unrestrained fun rose up at various points. Gaudy, vibrant lights burst into the dim night, boldly imposing themselves upon the blinding nocturnal shroud. Here, Friday nights are when the city truly shines and dazzles beyond the everyday.
The last days of the week and the first of two consecutive days off are celebrated with gusto, even if that ends up causing a fatal accident. Hence, it's the black day despite its flashy presentation; the day when hospitals become congested, paramedic sirens race through the city amid avalanches of people, and local police surveillance posts never rest.
The enjoyment of some, one way or another, will be the martyrdom of others.
And among one of those places of irrational, unbridled shamelessness is the Samsa North Commercial District. A massive, bustling urban sector, nestled in the city center, surrounded by glass skyscrapers with large, luminous, visually intrusive billboards.
Where emptiness was filled with laughter and spontaneous murmurs that, when mixed, formed an inebriated cacophony.
Streets teeming with establishments of all kinds: with radiant signs hanging outside, glorious entrances, and unique facades, leaving no room for repetition. While charming hostesses settled in the doorways, tirelessly promoting the best deals to increase their businesses' appeal against competitors on the same street.
After all, it was an iconic tourist spot, and one of the city's main points of interest for foreigners.
And, incredible as it may sound, it's also a place where, if you look closely, you can perceive competitiveness reflected in the architecture and the service.
But beyond the crowded streets, out of sight of the public, even the most unusual places came to life. Winding, narrow, congested alleys packed with people, crammed with minority businesses; small shops covering every side of the alleys, leaving no space unoccupied. Among them were the famous food stalls: the smell of meat permeated the air, while the crackle of deep fryers was an unhealthy delight to the ears. Diners shouted orders and prepared their exquisite dishes with mastery.
These out-of-the-way places were also the main hub for illicit business flows, hidden behind the facades of ordinary shops. They weren't easy to access, and it was impossible for them to serve foreigners. After all, they use hanging signs with a strict entry rule written in English: "No foreigners accepted."
Delving further into those places, the neutral light of irregular businesses was replaced by the presence of an enigmatic neon spectrum. The narrow alleys gradually darkened and became so tight that it was just you and a bunch of predatory stares coming from all directions, yet from nowhere at once. That's where the seedy bars were concentrated.
After all, Samsa was a concrete and neon-sign jungle, disguised with light shows that distracted the attention of gullible visitors. That's why locals frequently avoided tourist spots, or those who went there only had malicious intentions.
A "gem" of contemporary dense architecture. Although it remained aberrant despite its visual appeal.
Ryan's monotonous gaze drifted among the shop windows, with the boredom of someone who has visited that site a thousand times, and yet, he was there once more.
He looked ahead. Instantly his eyes were overwhelmed by layers of light superimposed upon one another, multiplying themselves into infinity. Each sign floating behind the next, spilling colors and mixtures—pinks turning purple, blues bleeding turquoise—while the silhouettes of the letters grew increasingly blurry. Like intermittent ghosts lost behind a luminous, hypnotic tunnel, projecting colored shadows into his eyes, making them look overly expressive.
He narrowed his eyes in bewilderment and muttered:
"Hey, do you also notice the lights seem kind of strange? Like they're poorly placed mirrors extending endlessly into luminous silhouettes and blurry letters."
—Great, you've finally gone crazy —Andrey muttered.
—Maybe you're right. It's just my imagination —he ran both hands over his face, as if the problem were lack of sleep.
He avoided looking up again and just focused on the group walking ahead of them, leading the way. Until his mobile phone rang and vibrated in his left pocket with an incoming call. He wasn't so sure about taking it out on the street, so he let it pass. But soon the call became more and more insistent—that persistence that could almost be perceived as concern pointed to only one person.
He quickly took out his phone, leaned down a bit, and held it to the side of his head: "Hello? Mom?"
—Aww, look how cute. Mommy's calling him —the group ahead mocked.
Ryan ignored the teasing and continued his phone conversation. Nodding several times to himself, repeatedly saying okay and of course, without telling her who he was hanging out with.
—I'll be back late. Bye, love you —he blew a kiss into the air, loud enough for his mom to hear, then hung up.
—You still ask your mom for permission to go out on your own? —the tall, intimidating guy asked him, looking over his shoulder.
—Uhm... Yeah, why? —Ryan tilted his head, feigning innocence—. Unlike all of you, my family actually cares about me.
The man stopped short, letting the group continue without him. Everyone, anticipating the conflict, also slowed their pace, turning their bodies or just their heads to watch the scene; some with surprise, others almost anxious.
The tall guy wasted no time and cornered Ryan against a wall, pressing his body against the shorter boy's, preventing him from moving or escaping. Suddenly, he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him slightly, while his almost flaming gaze pierced him, as if he could see his soul through his eyes.
Ryan, accustomed to dealing with all kinds of bullies, just shrugged and replied arrogantly:
"What you heard. Or did your parents raise you so poorly that you can barely pay attention to people without getting distracted?"
The group behind the guy burst into laughter, making him look even more ridiculous. But he didn't flinch; his heavy, threatening gaze remained fixed on Ryan. Suddenly, he raised his hand and clenched his fist, hinting at a brutal beating. Until Andrey intervened on Ryan's behalf.
—Wait, wait, Daemon, this guy just loves to joke around. He's always like this —he laughed nervously, his hands on Daemon's arm.
—Just because he acts that way with you doesn't mean he can do the same with me.
Andrey was alarmed by Daemon's words. And when it seemed like he was about to throw his punch, he suddenly pushed Andrey hard enough to make him step back a few paces, then pulled away from Ryan and put his arm around his shoulder to draw him close.
—I love the guts this guy has. He didn't get intimidated by someone bigger —Daemon held Ryan by the shoulder with unexpected camaraderie while laughing hilariously—. You're crazy, man. Come on, Andrey, you know me, I love jokes too.
Daemon pulled Ryan to walk beside him, still laughing as if he'd heard the funniest joke of his life.
Ryan seemed uncomfortable with this spontaneous change in attitude and with Daemon's closeness. But it was better than any beating.
Andrey watched them from behind, then let out a long, deep relieved sigh. Apparently, he was also afraid of facing a mastodon like Daemon head-on. He wasted no time and followed them closely, cautiously watching Daemon to make sure he didn't have ulterior motives and wasn't trying to hit Ryan while he was distracted.
After walking for a while, they arrived at a massive four-lane pedestrian crossing, and on the corner, standing out, they came across what appeared to be a huge entrance to a rather peculiar shopping center.
Everyone observed from the concrete sidewalk the large, ornate arch that served as an entrance. It was a red Paifang threshold, supported by lustrous pillars, with three hollow triangular structures at the arch's apex, holding dark silk streetlamps with gold-engraved symbols.
Near the top, gigantic typographic letters stamped inside a dark square frame. With fluorescent logographic characters that read: Hyaku District.
On the site, the structure was divided into three floors, each with glass railings, facing outward as if the facade didn't exist, or as if baring the front of the building, leaving an empty space in the center, was the facade itself. The Hyaku District extended inward like an immense hallway, complemented by shops with an Eastern aesthetic, giving the impression of entering an authentic Chinatown rather than an enclosed space.
—Wow... —the girls blurted out, surprised.
In the central plaza of the Hyaku District, a crowd gathered. Celebrating as if life would end tomorrow, with loud music coming from all directions.
—Marvelous! —exclaimed Riadumi, Andrey's girlfriend—. Andrey, honey, take a picture of me here.
She stood right at the entrance, blocking the flow of people coming and going without much care. She struck her best glamorous pose, while Andrey took several photos.
—Great, now we're stopping to please your girlfriend? —Ryan complained.
—Just a moment —Andrey said.
He looked askance at Andrey's lapdog pleasing his girlfriend. Until someone tapped his shoulder; turning his head, he was greeted by a surprising shout.
—WELCOME! —
Ryan recoiled in fright from the woman who had shouted almost directly into his ear.
—What the hell is wrong with you, crazy?! —
The girl wore a too-provocative dress, complete with a skirt and a hairstyle of defined curls that, together with her whole outfit, sought attention. Along with her, she carried a stack of flyers. Then she handed one to Ryan with a big smile.
—Oh! I'm sorry, it's just that since I saw you all blocking the entire entrance, I assumed you'd love to become customers —her strained smile didn't bother hiding her irritation.
She was calling them a nuisance in a passive-aggressive way. Maybe it was best to move on. But suddenly, other girls from her group in similar dresses approached and began handing out flyers to the group.
—So what are these things? —he folded the flyer to look at the content—. Two girls for the price of... one?
Ryan frowned and looked up, confused.
One of the shouter's companions approached to clarify the doubts. She was less intense, with a much more adorable and calm appearance.
—Yes, sir. It's a special offer only for today. We have a great diversity of—
She was abruptly interrupted by Ryan.
—Are you telling me this... is a huge brothel?
The intense girl spoke again: —But not just any brothel, the best in the city! Absolutely everyone in Samsa should visit it at least once! —she closed both fists in front of her face, excited.
—Maybe you haven't noticed, but... —he pointed at his uniform—. We're underage.
—Pfft! What does that matter? We don't question that here —she paused briefly and then pointed at the celebrating crowd—. But if you're looking for something quieter, there are also bars inside. Samsa isn't for kids, you know?
—Well, you're right about that.
Andrey barged in with great energy.
—Did I just hear two for one?! —he gave Ryan a painful slap on the back—. What are you waiting for? Those ladies are waiting for us.
Before taking a step forward, he was roughly restrained by a tug on his coat sleeve from Riadumi, who looked annoyed.
—No —it was a clear, forceful denial, scary enough to shake more than one.
Andrey forced a smile, containing his nervousness, and nodded several times submissively.
—J-just kidding, sweetheart —he patted Ryan on the shoulder again—. Sorry, buddy, I guess it's a no-go this time.
Ryan quickly brushed Andrey's hand off his shoulder and shot him a look of disgust over his shoulder.
—And why do you say it like I encouraged you?
He looked around for the group that had been accompanying them moments ago, who had suddenly disappeared, until he spotted them across the pedestrian crossing, never having noticed when they'd moved away.
—How did they get over there? —Ryan wondered.
In the distance, they could see Daemon waving his hand for them to hurry up.
—Let's go already, we'll be late —before Ryan could take a single step, he was held back by the arm—. What now? —
—What do I want? What do I want?! You owe me for being a nuisance.
Ryan just rolled his eyes in exasperation, unable to believe he was being held against his will by a woman much smaller than him. Then he took out his wallet and handed her a hazel-brown bill with the symbol «50» printed on it.
"Here."
—Now you're trying to bribe the law? Oh... You're in big trouble, kid.
—What are you—? —he stopped mid-sentence and pulled out another bill. It was blue with the symbol «100»—. Now take it and shut up.
The little intense one snatched the bill from his hand and began expertly analyzing its authenticity. Then she smiled satisfied and gave Ryan the green light with a: —A pleasure doing business.
And off she went to hand out more flyers with her entourage.
—Swindler —Ryan muttered behind her back—. Well, we'd better keep going, before she starts crying about losing that bill.
—Sorry, my fault —Andrey apologized.
You could say it was really his girlfriend's fault. But he couldn't blame him; after all, that harpy had him dancing in the palm of her hand.
The three finally rejoined the rest of the group and, once again, continued on their way to finally reach their destination.
Along the way, Riadumi cautiously approached Ryan. Then she whispered in his ear: —See that girl who seems lost in her phone?
She pointed with her painted fingernail at a distracted girl, quite glamorous in appearance, though not as overdone as Riadumi. This girl could boast a more natural beauty without so much makeup, her hair tied in two high, voluminous ponytails. With a quite elaborate hair color: a chestnut brown with an inner layer of turquoise-blue ghost shadow, creating a stunning visual effect at first glance.
But her clothing left something to be desired and accurately reflected her nature. A short skirt, exposing a lot of the black tights she wore, and, as if that weren't enough, her brown coat tied around her waist. While her tie was loosened.
Ryan, seeing her appearance, couldn't help but smile, imagining the reprimands this girl had already received from Yuromi.
—What about her?
—She's interested in you... —Riadumi said with a complicit smile.
—Yeah, right, I believe you. She looks more in love with that phone than any other human being on earth.
—No, no, no, I swear. Just give her time, she's a bit shy.
Shy wouldn't be the exact definition to describe a person who wouldn't have an ounce of shame when it came to breaking school rules. And, in a way, she was so similar to Ryan, as if he saw his own carefreeness in a mirror—a mirror with a skirt.
—I must admit, that hourglass figure is quite attractive —he winked at Riadumi.
—Wake up! —
Plass!
Ryan got a smack on the head.
—What was that for?! —
Riadumi feigned ignorance and moved a few steps ahead of Ryan without looking at him, with that air of smugness that characterized her when she chose to ignore someone.
"At least she's gone," he said to himself.
The group stopped in front of a particular building.
It was large, at least eleven stories high. With a facade that gave the sensation of entering a modern art gallery. White, immaculate, with an irregular surface defined by an abstract shape; connected by panels, and between the divisions of those panels, multicolored LED spotlights gleamed.
—Is this it?
—Yeah. It's new —Andrey replied, looking toward the top of the building.
—And this is a karaoke bar?
—It's a bit of everything, really —he stepped forward to walk toward the entrance—. Well, we're not going to stand out here waiting for the welcome photo.
He turned to the group with a big smile and confidently declared:
"Get ready, because your eardrums are about to be delighted by the warmth of my angelic voice."