Elian sat by the large window of his uncle's house, absently scrolling through his phone. The city stretched before him in glittering lights, a stark contrast to the unease settling in his chest.
Taro had been enthusiastic over the phone, practically begging him to attend Rylan's exhibition.
"Come on, Elian! You love exhibitions. This is a huge opportunity!"
Elian had only hummed in response, noncommittal. He hadn't given Taro an answer, yet somehow, he already knew—he had no real choice.
And then, as if to seal his fate, a knock echoed through the entrance.
His uncle's assistant answered the door, revealing a well-dressed man holding an envelope. Without a word, the man handed it over and left.
Elian's fingers tightened around the heavy black envelope as he flipped it open. The thick, luxurious paper inside bore a single name written in bold, elegant script:
Elian Volkov
And beneath it, in smaller but no less imposing letters:
Personal Invitation – Private Access to Rylan Daemon Asano's Exclusive Collection.
His breath hitched. Private access?
Not just a regular guest. Not just any invitation.
A personal one.
A direct pull into Rylan's world.
Elian placed the envelope on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, exhaling sharply. His thoughts ran in circles, but in the end, one thing was clear—
Ignoring this wasn't an option.
Rylan was making sure of that.
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