After that little exchange, we didn't talk much. Kaelira just grumbled something under her breath and took the lead.
I followed her through the winding streets of this half-dystopian, half-arcade townscape until we reached the hotel she had mentioned.
It was… surprisingly decent.
In fact, it was almost nostalgic—eerily reminiscent of the compact capsule hotels back on Earth.
Not the shady ones, but the mid-tier class with decent lighting, soft ambiance music, and an unspoken code of "don't ask questions, don't start fights."
We stepped through the sliding doors, and the scent of ionized air and artificial lavender hit me instantly.
Neon veins traced the walls, pulsing in slow rhythm like a digital heartbeat.
The reception desk was front and center, manned—or rather, holo-manned—by a shimmering AI projection of a sharply dressed attendant, complete with a glowing smile and polite dead eyes.
