2. VIP Room

Renata was still standing frozen at the elevator threshold when the driver gave her a gentle push forward, one hand on her shoulder like he was steering someone who'd lost their bearings. The roar in front of her was so thick it felt like a wall she had to push through, not just air she could simply walk into.

"This way," the driver said, his voice barely audible over the noise.

They walked down a short, dark corridor, its walls lined with thick black soundproofing material that felt damp and cold under Renata's palm when she brushed against it briefly to keep her balance. The closer they got to the end of the corridor, the more the roar broke apart into sounds she could actually pick out. The crowd shouting. Bass music thudding like some giant's heartbeat. And underneath it all, a referee or announcer shouting through a microphone, the words sharp but not fully reaching Renata's ears.

The driver opened a glass door at the end of the corridor, and in an instant, Renata's whole world changed.

She stood at the threshold of a room that looked straight down over the space below, separated by thick glass that muffled some of the sound but not all of it. Beyond the glass, an octagonal cage was surrounded by layers of people, cheering, raising their arms, some waving cash in the air. Thin smoke drifted above the crowd's heads, whether from cigarettes or a fog machine, she couldn't tell, making the spotlight over the center of the ring look almost like a solid beam you could reach out and touch.

The room where Renata stood was worlds apart from the crowd below. Dark leather sofas were arranged neatly facing the glass, a low table held bottles of expensive liquor that hadn't been touched, and dim lighting made everything feel more private, more calm, as if deliberately kept apart from the chaos happening below. Even the air felt different. Cool, faintly scented with sandalwood, nothing like the sweat and smoke that surely filled the floor beneath them.

"Please, sit," said a woman in a black uniform who appeared out of nowhere, smiling professionally as she gestured toward one of the sofas. "They're expecting you."

Renata didn't get the chance to ask who was expecting her. Her legs moved on their own, carrying her to the edge of the sofa, her suitcase still gripped tightly beside her, the one solid thing in a room that felt like too tidy a nightmare.

She turned toward the glass. Down below, a fight was already underway, intense and unrelenting.

Two shirtless men circled each other, sweat gleaming under the spotlight. One was bigger, his muscles standing out in a way that looked intimidating even from this distance. The other was leaner, but faster, more slippery, like water that was hard to grab hold of.

Renata had never seen a fight this brutal, even though she'd watched hundreds of hours of match footage with her father back in the day, in their small living room, her father pointing at the screen and breaking down every move with eyes lit up.

Watch his feet, Renata. Not his hands. Feet decide who wins.

Without meaning to, her eyes started working on their own. Analyzing and reading the pattern.

The leaner man had a quick jab, but every time he threw it, his shoulder dropped just a fraction of a second too long. A fraction of a second was crucial for a fighter. That small opening could be exploited by an opponent sharp enough to spot it.

Renata leaned forward slightly without realizing it, her eyes locked on that movement. Her heart started pounding in a way that was different from the fear she'd felt since stepping out of the elevator. This was a familiar kind of racing. The same feeling she used to get sneaking off to train alone in the garage, hitting her father's old sandbag while her mother was working the night shift, the garage window shut tight so the sound wouldn't reach the neighbors.

The fight went on, getting fiercer. The bigger man landed a solid hit to his opponent's ribs, and the crowd cheered even louder. But the leaner man held his ground, moving in a steady backward rhythm, almost like dancing. He was waiting for his moment.

Then, when that moment came, he shot forward with a speed that made Renata hold her breath, dodging the counter, then unleashing a fast combination that ended with a hard shot to his opponent's jaw. The bigger man staggered, dropped to his knees, and the referee stopped the fight right away.

The cheering exploded so loud it cut through the thick glass of the room where Renata stood.

Renata let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The winner stood in the middle of the ring, arms raised, surrounded by a hysterical crowd, sweat streaming down his body, gleaming under the spotlight. There were some cuts near his temple, but that small detail didn't dim the satisfaction on his face.

Renata kept watching the ring even after the man had already left the center of the arena and disappeared into the crowd swarming around him, patting his back, handing him a towel. It wasn't the man's win that kept her staring, it was the way his shoulder had dropped a fraction of a second too long earlier, opening a small gap for his opponent. If the man who'd gone down had been quick enough to read that pattern, the outcome might have gone differently.

"His shoulder dropped," Renata murmured, more to herself than to anyone else in the room. "Too long. If his opponent had been a little sharper, he could've gotten in right there."

She didn't mean for anyone to hear it. The words just slipped out, the same kind of reflex as breathing, the same way she used to always comment whenever she watched a match with her father, even though her father wasn't beside her anymore to hear it.

The woman in the black uniform who'd greeted her earlier came closer again, this time carrying a small tray with a glass of water. "Can I get you anything, miss?"

"No," Renata answered quickly, a little embarrassed at being caught talking to herself. "I'm just... I’m fine."

The woman smiled faintly, didn't press further, then walked off to a corner of the room, speaking quietly to someone through an earpiece.

Renata looked back down, searching for the winner among the crowd. He wasn't there. Her gaze swept around until it finally landed on a corner of the large room, near a wide staircase leading up to the floor above, the very floor where she was standing now.

The man was there. Standing at the foot of the stairs, a towel still draped over his shoulders, listening to a man in a suit talking fast while pointing upward, toward the glass room where Renata stood frozen.

The man's head turned to follow the direction of the pointing finger, and their eyes met.

For a fraction of a second that felt much longer than it should have, the world around Renata seemed to dim, the crowd's cheering fading into a distant hum in the background. The man stared straight at her, sweat still running along his sharp jaw, his chest still rising and falling fast from breathing that hadn't fully steadied yet.

Renata had no idea what the man in the suit had just said to him. All she saw was the winner's jaw tighten slightly, one corner of his mouth pulling up, not a friendly smile, more like someone who'd just been told something interesting was waiting for him upstairs.

The man started walking toward the stairs.

Renata was still frozen where she sat, unaware that in just a few more minutes, the door behind her was about to open.