章 2: 2. The Person I Am Looking For...
Aurora glanced at her watch, the hands ticking towards 4:00 pm. She tossed a generous tip on the table, the worn leather of the booth creaking its disapproval as she rose. Stepping out of the cafe, the cool night air washed over her, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the day. Her trusty motorcycle, a sleek black Ducati hidden discreetly around the corner, awaited her.
Across the road, a sleek black car, its paint mirroring the stormy clouds above, slowly came to a stop. The engine purred to a quiet hush, drawing a curious glances from a couple sipping coffee on the cafe's patio.
"Young Master Adrian," the chauffeur, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a nervously twitching tie, spoke in a hushed tone. "This is it."
With a flourish practiced countless times before, the two windows on the right side of the car rolled down, revealing their passenger. Adrian, his posture as rigid as the lines of his black suit, sat in the back. His long legs were folded, taking up most of the space. A cigarette, held between fingers that looked sculpted from marble, dangled from his lips.
His gaze flicked towards the cafe, a frown creasing his brow. The sunlight filtering through the awning cast flickering shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline and the cool indifference in his deep-set eyes. "Don't tell me the person I'm looking for is here..." he scoffed, smoke curling from his lips.
The chauffeur shifted uncomfortably. Adrian was not known for his patience. "But sir," he stammered, "this is the address that was indicated."
None of the faces visible through the cafe window looked anything like the person they were searching for. The man's face became solemn. "When was that?"
The chauffeur mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "Yes sir, just ten minutes ago."
Adrian flicked the ash from his cigarette, the tiny ember briefly illuminating his face before fading into the growing dusk. His narrowed eyes, usually focused with steely determination, drifted towards a space beneath a large oak tree across the street. It was quite windy today, the leaves rustling and swirling in a chaotic dance.
He saw a young lady sitting on a motorcycle, with a slight click the motorcycle roared to life, the wind whipping through her hair, transforming it into a cascade of sun-kissed gold. It was only a glimpse, a fleeting moment as she sped away, but the side of her face that he saw held a beauty that took his breath away. It was ethereal, like a vision dreamt of on a moonlit night.
A single word escaped his lips, barely a whisper, "Wait…" But it was too late. The girl on the motorcycle was already lost in the city's labyrinth of streets, leaving Adrian with a single image and a growing curiosity that burned brighter than the dying embers of his cigarette.
________________________________________
Later That Night.
Ajanta City, Nova Roma.
The grand hall of the Museum of Antiquities thrummed with an energy that would have surprised the stoic statues lining its walls. Gone were the hushed whispers and reverent silences of a typical museum visit. Tonight, the air crackled with laughter, lively chatter, and the smooth sounds of a jazz trio tucked into a corner.
Guests, a vibrant mix of ages and backgrounds, wandered the space, their cocktail glasses catching the dim glow of strategically placed spotlights. String lights, draped across the towering atrium, cast a warm, almost whimsical sheen on the marble floor. The usual velvet ropes, barring access to certain exhibits, were playfully adorned with colorful ribbons, inviting exploration.
In the Egyptian wing, a group of friends, their faces flushed with excitement, clustered around a sarcophagus. A docent, sporting a festive feather boa over his tweed jacket, patiently explained the hieroglyphs with a theatrical flourish. Laughter erupted as someone accidentally tripped over a stray sandal, nearly landing in a display case of golden amulets.
Over by the Roman busts, a gaggle of teenagers, sporting togas fashioned from bedsheets, posed for selfies with a grumpy-looking Julius Caesar statue. Nearby, a group in shimmering cocktail dresses debated the artistic merits of a chipped amphora.
The Renaissance wing was a different scene altogether. Here, a group of art enthusiasts, clad in their Sunday best, sipped wine and discussed the subtle brushstrokes of a Botticelli. A harpist, dressed in period garb, filled the air with a melody that seemed to emanate from the paintings themselves.
Food stations were strategically placed throughout the museum. In the Asian art section, guests sampled delicate sushi next to a display of jade figurines. A cheese platter, overflowing with local offerings, sat regally beside a display of medieval weaponry.
As the night deepened, the energy shifted. The jazz trio switched to more upbeat tunes, and a makeshift dance floor materialized in the central hall. Guests, their inhibitions lowered by the unique atmosphere, twirled and swayed beneath the watchful gaze of ancient gods and pharaohs.
This wasn't your typical museum experience. It was a celebration of art, history, and the joy of human connection, all rolled into one unforgettable night.
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