Cyber Fair: The Escape 1 (Escape from Club Apophis, 58)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE:  Kyle dozed outside the glass door of MasterGin’s bedroom.

Cold, luminescent spores drifted past the glass balcony in slow, rhythmic pulses, glowing like deep-sea jellyfish in the dark air. It was hypnotic. The heavy hum of the cooling vents weighed on his eyelids, pulling them down.

The mission was simple: Escape. But MasterGin was guarding Jihoon’s limp, unconscious body like a clingy dragon sitting on a pile of gold. Jihoon hadn't opened his eyes or uttered a word since falling into the coma after catching fire in daylight. He was entirely at the mercy of whoever carried him. Kyle couldn’t force open the door lock to steal him, let alone carry unresponsive body safely across the chasm of toxic bioluminescent parasites.

Inside, Jihoon was sprawled across a luxurious silk bed in sleek, blindingly white bedroom. The room hummed with a low, throbbing energy as the overhead LED panels pulsed in a slow sleep cycle.

The Shadow Serpent slept curled around Jihoon's body like an ominous overgrown cat, — if a cat were made of liquid obsidian scales and flicked its forked tongue when snoring.

“WHAT’S UP DRAGONLETS!!!”

Kyle jolted upright, his heels skidding against the floor as his heart slammed into his ribs.

What the…?

Lisa? Lisa Liemawr was here?

He peered inside the room. The Shadow Serpent dissolved into dark mist, vanishing through the wall on the opposite side.

Was it looking to see what was going on?

A moment later, its head poked straight back out of the plaster, eyes wide with frantic urgency.

Click.

The electric door lock disengaged.

Kyle wasted no time slipping into the bedroom, pressing his shoulder to the far partition to listen. He held his breath, ears straining against the cold marble wall. Everything was muffled, a tense argument between MasterGin and Lisa. MasterGin was insisting Lisa worked for him.

What? No. That couldn’t be true.

Kyle leaned back, mind racing. No. Lisa was trying to expose him and his operation. She knew where they were too. Was she intentionally distracting MasterGin to buy them time? He didn’t know. Whatever game she was playing, she had broken in for sure.

An incredulous chuckle escaped his chest.

Even if she was out of her goddamn mind, he had to respect her gall for breaking into a vampire diva's private domain. MasterGin seemed impressed too, he was praising her. She’d be ok.

Wait…. It was silent now.

He pressed his ear against the wall again. Nothing.

The Serpent was curious too. It poked its smokey head through the wall, looking around before turning toward Jihoon.

It gestured wildly, dipping its head low in a sharp bow to the silent boy on the bed, then jerking toward the balcony exit.

Kyle didn’t need to speak Snake to translate. MasterGin had left with Lisa, and somehow Jihoon, even trapped deep in that coma, had just sent him the signal to run.

Gotta cover him. Gotta cover him now.

Kyle sprinted to the wardrobe, grabbing a white varsity jacket which was the only thing in MasterGin’s closet that wasn’t a dress or covered in glitter.

Face cover. Need a face cover. No daylight could be allowed to touch Jihoon’s skin.

His eyes landed on an old, hollowed-out TV monitor with devil-horned antennas sitting on a side table. Perfect. He snatched it, ripping out the tangled cluster of copper wire and dead capacitors, turning the plastic shell into a makeshift helmet. The chemical stink of old circuit boards drifted out.

No battery. No power cable dangling.

Yet, as Kyle lifted it toward Jihoon, the dead screen crackled to life. Static crawled across the dark glass in a soft, grey fizzle. For half a second, Jihoon's face appeared inside the static, faint, pale, and staring directly out from the screen.

Kyle froze, his throat tight, his hand still on the helmet casing as he stared the glitching screen.

“…Creepy.”

He shook off the chill, threw a heavy blanket over Jihoon, and wrapped him tight.

“Ready, Snakepoo?” Kyle muttered, hoisting Jihoon’s dead weight into a firm carry. “Can you get us across the walkway?”

The Shadow Serpent gave a single, resolute nod. It surged through the open balcony doorway, its long tail trailing thick black smoke across the floor.

The glass walkway chimed in its wake. Individual planks unlocked and extended one by one over the abyss, warm lights awakening in a rapid sequence.

Kyle stepped forward, hugging Jihoon tightly against his chest as the bridge settled beneath his boots.

“Lisa Liemawr,” he whispered under his breath, waiting for the final plank to lock into place. “I owe you one, Queen.”

The moment the path sealed, Kyle dashed into the darkness, following the eerie faint glow of the Serpent as it hurtled ahead.

On Him, Kyle:

Mask: +NK+ - Manji Mask - VIP 250L[mesh](CyberFair)(250L)

Wings: SOLE - SA - Wing DND (Black)[mesh](CyberFair)(329L)

Eyes: MIDORI - Abduction Eyes // BOM // EXO 01 [BOM](CyberFair)(399L)

Top: YUEBIN - Sinful Patrol - black [Legacy (m)+Athl] [mesh](350L)

Pants: L&B - LEGACYM Tapered] Swear Havoc Leather Pants [mesh]

Boots: CULT - Cobain - Legacy Male [mesh]

Hair: TRASH - Lucifer w/o Horns V1 - Rainbow pack [mesh]

Headphone: !Reliquary - !R! Synth-o Ear Tap [mesh]

Skin: MUDSKIN - Hajimu, C, Brow, WINTER [BOM]

Head: LeLUTKA - Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

On him, Jihoon:

Head: KNIFU - Deadware.exe Head [mesh](CyberFair)(499L)

Jacket: Muho - Tokyo - Jacket - Legacy [mesh](CyberFair)(189L)

Top: ZOS - Cyber Comprezzion Fatpack - Leg At [mesh]

Pants: AVEC TOI - Kai Pants, Turmoil, LegacyM [mesh](595L)

Boots: CULT - Gzad - Legacy M [mesh]

Claws: Subject Thirteen - Slay Plague Claws, PBR - LegacyA [mesh]

Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

Pose: Cyn~Cyn - Being Saved

Setting:

Furniture: Little Bee - Neon District FATPACK [mesh](CyberFair)(1999L)

Plants: .:Tm:. - C.DC10 Crackborn Cyber Potted Plants+PBR-light [mesh](CyberFair)(225L)

Table and chair: Your Dreams - {YD} Shinjuku Dining - Cyan [mesh](CyberFair)(299L)

Skybox: Erfe Design - Cyber Skybox House 170 LI  unfurnished [mesh](CyberFair)(2290L)

Pet: MoonRabbit - MR SNEK SPIRIT [mesh]

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots,  midday sky, default camera:

Cyber Fair: The Scoop of the Century 2 (Escape from Club Apophis, 57)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: Forbidden Zone, MasterGin’s Personal Suite

“What’s up, Dragonlets! It’s your girl Lisa Liemawr of the Hexa Herald, reunited with the new and improved M10. Woot Woot! You'll never guess where we are. 150 meters below GIN AESTHETICA™. #SecretBunker. But Lisa, why does a Plastic Surgery Clinic need an underground lair? Good question. We're about to break open The Scoop of the Century! …Or so this fetching eye candy tells me.”

M10’s optic lens swung from Lisa’s face, focusing on the supermodel like figure framed in the doorway.

Clove cigarette smoke.
The white Marilyn hair.
Jihoon’s new photogenic face. “Lathandro™.”

“I mean, what the hell am I looking at?” Lisa leaned toward the camera. “Is MasterGin forming a boy band of baddies?”

The figure gave a soft dry snort.

SUS. 

Jihoon barely held eye contact during press junkets. Whoever was wearing his face right now owned the room like he'd built it himself.

The camera pivoted back to Lisa, her eyes shining with scandal hunting delight. “I have questions, Dragonlets. Click subscribe if you think we found our lost baseball ringer Lathandro. Click like if you think this is extra SUS. Leave a comment if you think Lisa sucked in too much apocalypse sewer sludge and is high out of her mind… or dead.”

Jihoon burst out laughing.

The sound was deeper than Lisa remembered. Smooth as polished obsidian. Dark. Entirely wrong.

He smirked with MasterGin’s exact theatrical confidence, dragging slow smoke from the long-stemmed silver snake cigarette while flashing his long silver claws. “That’s why I like you, Miss Lisa Lies More. You’re bold. You make me laugh.”

He turned toward the interior, waving a manicured hand. “Come. Let’s talk business.”

He paused mid-step as a shudder rippled across his skin.

Lisa whipped out her halophone, fingers flying as she snapped rapid photos.

Jihoon’s features stuttered. The pale flesh blurred like wet oil paint. White hair darkened to gold blond. Wrinkles dug into his forehead and around eyes. Darker and mottled, his skin was aging decades in a fraction of a second. It was a face Lisa had never seen, not even in the Hexa Herald archive. 

Click. Click.

Another glitch and the moment vanished. Flesh bleached instantly back to porcelain. Features tightened into razor-sharp lines. Pale blue eyes flared under the light.

MasterGin emerged like a sculpture freshly carved from white marble.

Of course. He'd worn the “Lathandro™” face like a costume, just to watch her flinch.

His smile widened. He knew she had seen it.

“Or did you forget you work for me, Dear?”

Lisa forgot to breathe. The camera kept recording, storing the rapid-fire captures in her local buffer. For one single heartbeat, she had glimpsed something real beneath the god. A man hidden beneath layers of living art and Glamour.

“You look disappointed,” he purred.

Lisa swallowed hard, holding her device steady. “I’m just deciding which face belongs to the guy paying my checks.”

His smile broadened, sharp and predatory. “Careful, Dear. Never ask a plastic surgeon if his face is real.”

The air smelled of clove masking the heavy, copper tang of dried blood.

Lisa stepped past him into the suite, keeping her eyes moving. “Well now. Color me surprised. I thought your lair would be obsidian and gold, with bloodless bodies stacked in the corners. Instead, this place is immaculate and white.”

Her gaze caught a huge circular holographic sphere suspended around a white leather hover chair. Its translucent surface crowded with surveillance feeds, biometric readouts, and shifting data streams. A single monitor glowed beside the hovering lounger, while a sleek holder displayed MasterGin’s personal halophone like a ceremonial relic.

She took rapid shots, zeroing in on the familiar faces flickering across the holographic display: Plague moving through Sector 4 on repeat, Echo, Minjo, Hwan, Kyra, Paine... Then Lisa saw herself from three seconds earlier, standing in this exact doorway.

“Is this all live?”

MasterGin raised a slim remote.

The holographic sphere folded inward, every face and data stream collapsing into a single white point before vanishing entirely.

“The disappointment is mine,” he said, letting his lip curl into a dramatic pout. “I present to you the secret of my empire, and all you care about is security footage.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, double-checking that M10 had cached the screen layout before the black-out. “So then. You invited me into your pad. Does that mean you want to suck my blood, or some standard vampire bullshit?”

“Nothing so gauche.” He lit another cigarette, the sweet scent of cloves filling the room. “I have an assignment for you.”

While his gaze dropped to his tablet, Lisa slid one foot back, measuring the distance to the corridor.

“Silence?” MasterGin looked up, his pale eyes catching her mid-pivot. “I see. Hesitation.”

Lisa froze. Cornered.

The ancient vampire glided across the floor, his boots making no sound against the polished white stone. The heavy door slammed shut behind her with a firm click.

“Before you attempt an escape, there is something you should see. Come.” He gestured with a single long finger.

With no path backward, Lisa followed.

M10 hovered by the door frame, its internal gyros whining as it refused to cross deeper into the structure.

She couldn't blame it. M10 had good reason to fear MasterGin. She glanced at the faint burn scar still visible beneath its new paint job.

They stepped through a side portal directly onto an elevated walkway overlooking the Apophis ATELIER factory floor. The scale hit Lisa like a physical punch. Below them, elaborate silk gowns and armor rigs hung from high ceiling tracks. Low-level goblins and demon assistants moved rapidly between buzzing sonic sewing machines and vats of dye. The air here was heavy with hot metal, burning ozone, and synthetic silk fumes.

MasterGin crossed the catwalk toward his glass office, where a glowing nameplate read Evil Queen. Mounted behind his desk sat a massive LED board displaying confirmed attendees for the Opening of the Mouth Ceremony, listing international heads of state, corporate lords, and high-tier influencers.

“Ah, here it is,” MasterGin said, stopping beside the White Snakeskin Box on his desk. He flipped the latch and reached inside, pulling out a waterlogged, filth-stained teddy bear.

Teddy!

Lisa’s stomach turned to lead. She reached out, gripping the edge of the glass desk to keep her knees from giving way.

“Awww. Did you lose something, my Dear?” His claws dug into the plush fur, ripping the seams open with slow precision. “Something that runs on…” He reached inside and yanked out the glowing Devil Heart battery that powered her long-range transmission. “…My power?”

He closed his hand into a fist. Micro-gears popped and sparked. Metallic dust and shattered glass leaked between his fingers.

“You really should stop mistaking hidden cameras for hidden secrets.”

Lisa swallowed down the burning bile in her throat. Teddy was her life raft. That bear held raw, unedited footage of the prisoners and auction, primed to blast past the jamming grid the second it breached the Forbidden Zone’s perimeter. Without it, there was no backup. No rescue team coming. No proof.

She stared at the metallic dust on his hand. How much did he actually see? Had he been watching their entire path through the sewers, the pen, and the clinic? Were their desperate moves just part of his show?

MasterGin wiped his palm on a silk handkerchief, his eyes locked onto hers with dark satisfaction.

“How?” was all she could say.

“Entropy power is traceable, my Dear. Don’t take it personally,” he said softly, stepping closer until she could smell the clove smoke on his breath. “I have had a very long time to plan.”

On him, MasterGin:

Top: GRIMA - Tanya Tactical Top [Legacy V-Tech][mesh](CyberFair)(650L)

Pants: GRIMA - Tanya Tactical Pants Bulge [LegacyF][mesh](CyberFair)(650L)

Boots: Diaboli Design - Excinitor fatpack [mesh](CyberFair)(999L)

Skin: VelvetVue - Kai Skin Ivory (VE) / NO BROWS [BOM](CyberFair)(699L)

Eyes: EUPHORIC - Xena Eyes #P3-01 [BOM] (380L)

Nails: AsteroidBox - Simple Nails - LegacyF [mesh]

Cigarette holder: GRAAL - SMOKING SNAKE [mesh](349L)

Hair: bonbon - tame hair, naturals [mesh]

Collar: Cruel - Sulfur Gorget, Legacy M [mesh](100L)Head: LeLUTKA - CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh]

Body: TheShops - Meshbody Legacy (f) Special Edition (Basic) 1.2 [mesh]

Pose: AGATA mode - agapee_unpack P4

Setting:

Skybox: Erfe Design - Cyber Skybox House 170 LI  unfurnished [mesh](CyberFair)(2290L)

Statue: Erfe Design - Arog Techno Woman White PBR 3 LI [Erfe Design]

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots,  midday sky, default camera:

Cyber Fair: The Cybernetic Body Horror (Escape from Club Apophis, 37)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE:  The recovery room inside GIN AESTHETICA™ was a masterpiece of sterile vanity. It glowed with a predatory, flawless white light. Behind the sleek medical bed, a massive window framed the glittering nightscape of Neu Seoul, a city blissfully unaware of the monsters operating above it. Opposite the window, beside the sealed door, a narrow observation pane watched the room like an unblinking eye.

A smart wardrobe hummed in the corner. It projected a rotating hologram of complimentary Apophis ATELIER garments waiting for a newly sculpted client.

But the patient in the bed would not be wearing haute couture anytime soon.

Diagnostic holograms floated in the chilled air, casting a sickly cyan light over Kyra's ruined chassis. Her external cybernetic shell had been stripped away by the clinic staff. Shockingly little organic tissue remained. The entire upper casing of her skull was missing, exposing an intricate, sparking web of metal, silicon, and processing chips. Only her lower face and brain stem remained human.

She lay perfectly still in sleep mode beneath a canopy of glowing biometric displays.

MasterGin stood at the foot of the bed, his heel tapping an irritated rhythm against the floor as he read the diagnostics. His sheer white tunic rippled as he crossed his arms. His flawless face slowly twisted into a mask of absolute revulsion.

"No. Absolutely not," he huffed. "I am an artist. I compose in flesh. I refine. I elevate. I do not troubleshoot appliances."

Romance sat rigid in the visitor's chair. His knuckles were bone-white. "Your testimonials are full of disfigured people singing your praises. You claim you can fix anything."

The vampire let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Poor Bubblegum Relic." He stepped closer, tracing a perfectly manicured claw over the former idol’s throat. "Adorable. A demon like you, still believing in miracles." He fanned himself as if he were having a hot flash. "Delicious." A wicked glee lit his eyes, like a secret he could not wait to ruin. "I do not cut. I conquer."

Romance refused to be intimidated. He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"Knives are for butchers. I prefer devotion."

Romance tilted his head, still not understanding.

MasterGin’s smile widened. "They always get the beauty they came for. That is the tragedy."

Romance’s eyes widened as the horrific truth clicked into place.

The vampire leaned in, his voice dropping to a theatrical, venomous whisper. "My blood is the miracle, Demon Dullard. I am an exceptionally rare vampire. I do not merely shapeshift. I force the shift. My blood flows into my clients and binds them to my will. It compels their fragile human cells to reshape, to elevate into the perfection of my design. They become my familiars, unable to disobey me. I mold them into gods. Or I melt them into puddles if they bore me. But this?"

He gestured dismissively at Kyra's exposed, synthetic brain casing.

"I do not sculpt gears. There is nothing here to seduce. No pulse to persuade. No flesh to betray itself. If it cannot ache, I cannot adore it."

"But I helped you. This whole time, you knew."

MasterGin pulled back to his full height, suddenly bored. "She is stabilized, yes. A few drops of vitae have halted her biological decay. You are welcome. But I cannot regrow what was never alive." He turned on his heels. "Get this scrap metal out of my pristine suite before it stains the floor."

The glowing white doors hissed shut behind him.

Romance covered his face with both hands. A ragged sob escaped his lips.

He had believed the lie. He had told himself that whatever else Monstrum was, the relief on those clients' faces in the advertisements was real. He had clung to the idea that some small good existed inside the machinery of this terrible occupation.

He lowered his hands and looked at the gleaming, empty room. It felt staged. Too bright. Too clean. There had never been anything behind the curtain. He had just handed them a massive propaganda victory, selling his enchanting curse to the cameras, for absolutely nothing. And somewhere out in the world, desperate people were still waiting for a miracle that would only enslave them.

He curled his fists. A deep, silent fury boiled in his chest.

He forced his hands to unclench. He smoothed his pink hair. He became the idol again.

Romance leaned over the bed. He retrieved a cursed energy chip branded with a devil heart logo from his pocket. He delicately pressed it into the port on Kyra's neck and switched her out of Sleep Mode.

The room filled with the soft whine of rebooting systems. Pistons clicked. Relays snapped inside her open skull. A faint heat rose from her exposed circuitry, carrying the sterile scent of warmed metal and ozone.

Kyra moaned, her voice fractured by digital static. "I can't see. Why can't I see?"

"It's just temporary," Romance whispered, taking her cold, heavy mechanical hand.

They both fell silent, terrified of what words might make real.

"Am I going to die?" she finally asked. Even through the static, the fear was plain.

"No," Romance said firmly. "I can see you will not. It is part of my power as a Saja. I know when a person's time is up."

Kyra’s grip tightened on his fingers. "Thank you for helping me. I'm not afraid when you are with me. I feel safe."

Romance’s heart cracked.

A sudden thump rattled the observation pane.

His head snapped up. Opposite the bed, beside the sealed door, the glass trembled under a double slap.

Lisa Liemawr stood on the other side, her hand leaving a smear of sewer grime on the pristine glass. Her jaw hung open. Her laser-focused eyes locked on the exposed, ruined state of her best friend. Absolute, devastating guilt carved itself across the reporter's face.

Romance was on his feet in an instant, one hand raised in sharp warning. "Go!" he mouthed silently, his eyes wide. "Are you crazy?"

Lisa shook her head. She refused.

Lisa Liemawr filmed everything. She never looked away from a story. But now she was standing entirely still, not documenting, not performing for followers, just staring in pure horror. Kyra, her longtime best friend, lay with her skull open to the world.

Behind Lisa, the rest of the students caught up. Plague, Kyle, Ghost, and Echo crowded into the corridor. Minjo stepped to the front.

Down the hall, the sharp, angry voice of MasterGin echoed off the marble. He was screaming at Nurse Paine, stripping her of her rank and demoting her to guard duty. They were coming back.

Romance locked eyes with Minjo. He pointed sharply down the corridor. "GO!" he mouthed again.

Minjo gave Romance one sharp, definitive nod and signaled to the team to scatter.

Lisa still refused to move. Plague grabbed the struggling reporter by the waist, lifting her entirely off her feet. Lisa kicked and twisted, tears streaking through the grime on her face as Plague dragged her out of sight into an adjacent room. They vanished just before the shadow of MasterGin fell across the far end of the hall.

The hallway emptied. Romance exhaled a shaky breath and sat back down beside the crisp white bed.

"Is something wrong?" Kyra asked, her optic sensors still dark. "What is going on?"

"MasterGin might be returning to discuss your options," Romance said, pitching his voice loud enough to mask any lingering sounds from the corridor. "He has a reputation as a miracle worker. However."

"Yes?" she prompted softly.

"He said you need a mechanic. There is not enough flesh for him to work with."

"Oh." Kyra’s heavy shoulders slumped. "So you were wrong. He can't restore my body."

"I was wrong," Romance admitted, the words tasting like poison. "But the good news is you are stabilized. You are not in immediate danger. We have options."

Kyra’s internal processors whirred loudly. He could hear her mind working through the panic. "Tell me the options," she said quietly.

Romance pulled his chair to the edge of the bed, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"First, you can let go. You can let your systems power down and pass on peacefully."

Kyra shook her head slightly.

"Second, I can permanently convert your cybernetics to run on the cursed energy of the Forbidden Zone. You would live, but you could never leave this place. You would be trapped here forever."

He paused, his golden eyes glowing in the dim light. He looked at the shimmering, infinite lifeline hovering faintly above her exposed mechanical brain.

"Third," he whispered. "You can make a deal with me, right here, right now. Exchange your soul for a new existence." He paused, looking at her destroyed body. "Recover what was lost by becoming a Jeoseung Saja. Like me. You would never age. And I would never have to be lonely again."

Kyra processed the weight of the offer.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, her voice trembling with static.

Romance closed his eyes. He remembered her life opening to him as she lay dying in the debris pile. Memories of incredible athleticism, helpfulness, and a fierce will to survive. She was perfect. He told himself that was the only reason the thought had crossed his mind.

"Yes. I am running a ratline. I can smuggle you out of the Zone entirely. We can find a human cybernetics doctor. Someone who can actually rebuild you. But you would have to leave immediately, and there is no guarantee you would be free. MasterGin has laid a claim on you. There is something in your system now that was not there before. His vitae stabilized you, but it is not neutral. It could be a complication."

The diagnostic holograms above the bed pulsed in the quiet room.

"Tell me what you want to do," Romance said, waiting in the glittering, sterile light.

Can you tell the story finale is looming or what?  Cyber Fair is also ending on the 23, so hurry over and check out all the wonderful items and sales before it ends.   Kyra is wearing amazingly crafted Nyx outfit by Lanevo which includes bodysuit, gloves for each hand separately, jacket, shorts, and boots. The boots also replace the mesh leg to create the "muffin top" squished flesh look under the straps and laces. ts uses BOM to match your body skin automatically. Very cool effect. Each piece is sold separately and has a fatpack of color options.   ...The drama exposed cyborg skull is by NK, Heavy Netrunner Implant. It includes a tattoo layer for the EVOX heads and alpha.   ...The giant claw hand is by Seka's, the GearHead Glove. I used the fatpack color options to stick to the Jae Won University's theme colors of red, black, and white.   ...The black lip makeup is by Other Faces for EvoX heads.   ...And the background, wow. This set is amazing. Crisp glossy whites. The set pack includes vanity, wardrobe, bed, ceiling/floors, and walls pieces to build your layout however you wish. Corners, window, long window, and straight. The wardrobe includes clothing for men and women and also animated poses for both.  The bed includes poses also, and options for PG or adult.

On her, Kyra:
Bodysuit: LANEVO - Nyx Bodysuit (Fatpack)[mesh](Cyber Fair)(885L)
Jacket: LANEVO - Nyx Jacket (Fatpack)[mesh](Cyber Fair)(885L)
Gloves: LANEVO - Nyx Gloves (Fatpack)[mesh](Cyber Fair)(660L)
Shorts: LANEVO - Nyx Pants (Fatpack)[mesh](Cyber Fair)(660L)
Boots: LANEVO - Nyx Boots (Fatpack)[mesh](Cyber Fair)(885L)
Skull, tattoo: NK - Heavy Netrunner Implant - VIP (PBR)[mesh](Cyber Fair)(750L)
Glove: SEKA's - GearHead Glove, fatpack [mesh](Cyber Fair)(999L)
Lips: OTHER FACES - Cyber Lips #Concrete [BOM](Cyber Fair)(199L)
Jaw: Evil Baby - Jaws - Accessory [mesh]
Head, eyes: LeLUTKA - lel EvoX LILLY 3.1 [mesh](3990L)
Body: Maitreya - Mesh Body Lara [mesh](2750L)

Pose: yzk - mens pose 4 hero5

Setting:
Furniture, Room: Erfe Design - Gora Bedroom Set Adult, Fatpack [mesh](Cyber Fair)(3490L)


BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots, hi-res, midday sky:

Midnight Order: GIN AESTHETICA (Escape from Club Apophis, 30)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: Old Seoul looked different from above, like a glowing circuit board designed by a madman and dropped into the dark past.

Romance rested his forehead against the cool, tinted glass of the hovercar. The low, soft rumble of its turbine slipped into his bones. Gangnam slid past in layers of aggressive light and chrome. The streets were cleaner than he remembered, scrubbed of humanity, louder with commerce, hungry for attention. Every surface was a screen; every face on the sidewalk had been polished for an audience that never blinked.

His breath fogged the glass, erasing him. When it thinned, a human face stared back like a ghost from another decade. His hair had gone dark, black as faded ink, longer than it had been minutes ago. Only the tips still clung to pink, like a bad memory refusing to let go. The glamor was not broken. It was exhausted.

He had overextended himself in Kyra’s rescue, enchanting hundreds of Monstrum instead of weak, disposable humans. The cost pressed in now as a dull ache behind his eyes, a weight in his limbs, the city suddenly too loud, too bright, too close.

He had been an idol trainee here. Back when the buildings were shorter. Back when idols still pretended to be human. Back when he believed fame would save him.

It didn’t.

A massive hologram pulsed against the smog-choked skyline.

NEW YEAR. NEW YOU. Designed for the life you deserve.

GIN AESTHETICA™ rose beneath the slogan, pristine and obscene. The headquarters of the monster who had hollowed out his homeland and sold it back, piece by perfect piece.

Romance sighed, fogging the glass again before the climate control erased it.

This was a dangerous game. If his plan was going to work, he needed to pass inspection. He needed a pick-me-up.

He pulled out his halo phone and logged into a burner account.

User: Mira Bio: Club organizer. Devoted fan. Founder of the Romaniacs.

The profile image was perfect. A middle-aged woman with soft cheeks, kind eyes, and a haircut that chose practicality over vanity. Someone you trusted with small complaints and unguarded truths.

Someone safe.

He typed: "Still on for coffee? That café you like, near the giant billboard?"

The reply came almost instantly.

Helga: "Yes, of course. I’m just across the street now. I’m wearing a blue coat."

Romance smiled faintly.

Helga. Loyal. Lonely. Careful with money, careless with hope.

The car descended, settling with a whisper of displaced air and the hum of anti-grav stabilizers.

“We have arrived,” the AI announced, voice empty of anything resembling care.

Romance glanced out through the dark glass. The café glowed warmly at street level. And there she was. Blue coat. Phone in hand. Scanning faces for a friend who didn’t exist.

His reflection stared back at him in the window. Beautiful. Hollow. Ready.

“The things I do for love,” he murmured.

The hermetic seals hissed open. Romance stepped out into the street, his pink hair tips catching city light as it stirred in a breeze that smelled faintly of coffee.

Streetlights kissed the silver embroidery of his formal suit like sparks on cold iron. Burgundy fabric clung and flowed, regal and restless, as if stitched from the memory of applause.

He had taken two steps when sharp heels clicked against cement.

A nurse emerged from the plastic surgery clinic.

Blond. Impeccable. Terrifying.

Her uniform had been reinvented into high-fashion couture. Seams sharp as scalpels. Luminous white fabric cut with authority. A gold serpent brooch pinned at her collar caught the streetlamp glare, its diamond eye unblinking.

Paine. MasterGin’s personal assistant.

“Thank you for coming, Master Romance.”

She bowed deeply. The words carried across the sidewalk, slicing cleanly through the traffic noise.

Helga froze.

She turned, eyes wide. Confusion collapsed into disbelief.

“Did you say… Romance?”

Silence stretched.

Romance glanced from Paine to Helga, pulse skidding. Then he laughed, warm and effortless, the sound of someone who belonged exactly where he stood. He stepped forward, angling his body between the nurse and the woman.

“No,” he said lightly. “The real Romance would be ancient by now, wouldn’t he? I’m just a model," he gestured to the clinic. "A celebrity impersonator. DJ Romance.”

Helga followed the movement. Understanding settled across her face.

“Oh!” Relief bloomed into a smile. “Mira set you up for this, didn’t she? That rascal.”

She laughed, then softened. “You carry his style beautifully. You really do. I always liked him best in the early years. When he sang to rooms, not stadiums.”

Her smile turned wistful. “Before Romance was Romance. You have excellent taste.”

Something sharp flashed behind his eyes and vanished.

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head politely.

She hesitated, cheeks warming, her phone lifting uncertainly. “May I… if it’s not strange… could we take a photo together?”

Romance’s smile deepened. The kind that ruined lives gently.

“Of course,” he purred. “Allow me.”

He took the phone, stepped close, and drew her in with practiced ease. The camera loved him. Loved her more for standing beside him.

She gasped when he showed her the image.

Romance did not release her.

“You know,” he murmured near her ear, voice brushing skin, “we could give your friends something better to talk about. How about a kiss?”

She flushed scarlet, entranced. She shyly offered her cheek.

Romance cupped her chin instead, and drew her in.

Their lips pressed together. A kiss deepened just enough to steal her breath. Her knees weakened before she understood why. The phone flashed again and again. Her life flowed into him. Warm. Bright. Threaded with memory. Her love for the man he had been burned sweetly in his lungs.

Delicious.

A sweet sip to be savored. It hit like a vintage year, bright and reckless. For a fraction of a second, faint blue light bloomed where their mouths met, hidden beneath the camera strobe.

“Enough.”

Paine tore the phone from his hand and deleted the images with surgical precision. Unapproved evidence erased with a click.

Helga swayed, grasping the hovercar for balance. Hands trembling. She looked older all at once. Drained.

Romance exhaled, irritated. A wisp of faint blue smoke curled briefly from his lips. His skin gleamed brighter now. His hair shone. His feral eyes sharpened into smoldering amber. For a moment, the world felt edible again. He could almost believe he was in control. Almost.

He smoothed his cuff. "Do you want a good photoshoot,” he said coolly, “or not?”

Paine snapped her fingers. Two men in lab coats appeared immediately, guiding Helga inside with murmured reassurances. A seat. Water. Monitoring.

Romance watched them go. The fragrance of her life still swirled around him, bright as fruit and just as rotten. For a moment he wanted to run after her, to give something back.

Instead, he swallowed the craving and let it become power. He had to be cold; Paine was watching. If he met her gaze, she might see the desperate animal scratching under the facade.

Her sacrifice will not be wasted, he told himself, the lie tasting like ash. It is fuel for a higher cause.

Mask in place. No guilt. Only resolve.

He shouldered his bag, the one with the devil-horned heart charm, and entered the clinic through doors of quartz and sterile luxury.

Inside, sound vanished into a hush that pressed against the ears. There was no reception desk. No signage.

Glass cases lined the space, displaying garments beneath the Apophis ATELIER mark. Clothing designed not to hide alteration, but to celebrate it.

Jackets cut for shoulders beyond human geometry. Dresses engineered to honor augmentation rather than disguise it. Trousers generous where flesh had been rewritten.

This was not indulgence. This was infrastructure.

“Greenroom,” Paine said sharply, pointing. “Makeup and wardrobe shortly.”

Romance sank into the chair before a smart mirror. The lighting shifted, flattering by force. Micro-corrections flickered across the glass.

ID: Pending.... DJ Romance Acceptable. 27% facial imperfections.

He rolled his eyes. An old ache tugged at his chest. He closed his eyes, breathed, and failed to make the yearning leave.

He pulled out his halo phone. He watched the status dot beside her name until it flickered green again.

Mira: "Hey Helga, did anything exciting happen?"

Her icon lit immediately.

Helga: "Mira OMG you will never believe—"

The phone vanished.

“Pink, cheap, and far past its expiration date.”

Romance froze.

The voice came from behind him, close enough to chill the skin at the nape of his neck.

In the mirror, something pale unfolded into the room.

MasterGin.

Not in a lab coat. He wore a sheer white tunic that clung like fog, open at the throat, draped to frame the sharp line of his collarbone and the cold arrogance of his chest. Gold chains crossed him in deliberate geometry, more jewelry than restraint, each link catching the light like a sinful promise.

He held Romance’s halo phone between two fingers, as if it had offended him personally.

“Bubblegum Relic,” Gin sneered savoring the words.

Then he closed his fist.

Metal shrieked. Glass cracked. The device collapsed like tinfoil, crumpling into a glittering ruin that fell to the floor.

Romance stared at the debris, jaw tight.

MasterGin leaned closer.

In the humming mirror, his smile hovered beside Romance’s reflection, a beautiful predator sharing the frame.

“If you ever feed in front of my clinic again,” Gin said softly, a low, deadly purr, “I will have you recycled into a cheap pink vinyl pressing of the worst music ever recorded. Do I make myself clear?”

Romance kept his gaze on the mirror, locking eyes with MasterGin.

“I wonder what would happen to your empire in Seoul,” Romance said, voice low and controlled, “if the locals learned what really goes on at GIN AESTHETICA™.”

MasterGin leaned in, presence collapsing the space, forcing Romance smaller. Then he straightened abruptly.

“First offense,” Gin said, as if mercy bored him. “You didn’t know the rules. I will allow it.”

A hand slid onto Romance’s shoulder.

Then, without warning, it snapped to his jaw.

MasterGin’s claws hooked under Romance’s chin and yanked his face upward—not toward him, but toward the mirror. Hard.

The chair creaked. Romance’s breath caught. They stared together at the reflection. Two monsters.

Gin tilted Romance’s head left, then right, studying him like an expensive object that had begun to tarnish. His thumb pressed into Romance’s jawline with just enough force to hurt.

“Excellent glow-up,” Gin admitted, the compliment almost an insult. “How much did you take?”

“One year,” Romance said, refusing to flinch. “She won’t miss it. Her last five would have been Alzheimer’s.”

Gin’s eyes narrowed in the mirror.

“You can tell that by looking?”

Romance’s lips curled faintly. Sweet. Poisonous.

“Yes,” he said. “And not just humans.”

Something tightened behind Gin’s gaze. Interest, threat assessment, or both.

He released Romance abruptly, as if bored of the sculpture.

“Feisty,” MasterGin murmured, almost pleased.

He drifted closer behind Romance, close enough that his breath warmed Romance’s neck. In the mirror, their faces aligned, predator and pet.

"Do you know what you are?” he asked softly.

His nails pressed in. A sting. A reminder.

“You are a contagion.”

Romance swallowed. Not fear. Recognition.

“When humans love you,” MasterGin continued, voice velvet over steel, “they do not simply adore. They submit. They volunteer. You make slavery feel like devotion.”

He leaned closer, eyes bright with interest now, almost reverent.

“Proof delivered live on my doorstep. I watched the security feed.”

Romance didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“My kind requires proximity. Physicality.” Gin whispered. “But you... You only need a digital signal.”

Romance met his eyes in the glass, unflinching. “I can turn your brand into a theology. But I need payment.”

MasterGin’s grin widened. “So yes. Your New Year campaign.”

He tapped Romance’s cheekbone, as if testing firmness. “You will pour that curse into the lens until they beg for my scalpel like it is salvation.”

His grip tightened.

“And if you do it perfectly,” he murmured, “I will grant your Kyra an appointment. I will assess what remains of her flesh to see what can be salvaged.”

MasterGin’s eyes narrowed, almost playful.

“Disappoint me… and your one billion won doll stays broken. Forever.”

He extended his hand, the hand that made monsters beautiful and vain humans slaves.

Romance stared at it.

For a moment he saw Kyra as she lay dying. Helpless. Ruined. But beneath the ruin, he saw the outline of forever. Not a victim. Not a doll. A bride. A blade. A beginning.

Then he took the hand.

“Deal.”

MasterGin released him. “You look thin. Bring your best face to the Opening of the Mouth Ceremony. Drink ten years.”

With a sharp click of heels, he sashayed away, his feather-light tunic dissolving into the clinical light.




Midnight Order is open! This round is even larger and packed with all that is dark and awesome. Seriously, look at that image above. Wow. Stunning. It's not to be missed.

On Romance is Pendulum's Illuvion suit. It has lush PBR materials that dazzle. It comes with several texture options. It's an entire outfit including boots. Perfect for formal events, and just being fabulous. Romance's interesting hair change was inspired by the Lorna Hair by Ni.Ju. The wildcard hud includes a texture that is black with pink tips, which gave me the idea that his glamor failed.

On MasterGin, is the stylish 1920s Erte-like gossamer Loana's Gown. The top is semi-transparent. The gown comes in several texture options. Added to his harem-chic is the Justiciar's Livery Chain by Requisition. It's unrigged and has PBR texture hud. From Buffy's is the Galina choker, part of a full outfit with a fit for Legacy Male. From Lex is the Bat of Hell earrings, incase anyone forgets MasterGin is quite a vampire.

On him, DJ Romance:

Suit: PENDULUM - ILLUVION.Suit, Legacy M [mesh](Midnight Order)(1600L)

Hair: NI.JU - Lorna Hair, wildcard [mesh](Midnight Order)(300L)

Tattoos: HISS - PATTERNS FACE ROMANCE [BOM](250L)

Rings: MANDALA - Sinra Rings season-3-HD, Legacy M [mesh]

Brooch: Schelm - 2.Devil Heart Straight Barbell [mesh]

Earring in mirror: RavenBell - Starlit Earrings, Moonlit [mesh](350L)

Hair in mirror: NoMatch - NO_TENDERNESS [mesh]

Head: LeLUTKA - Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

On him, MasterGin:

Robe: REBIS - Loane's Gown, Legacy M, white [mesh](Midnight Order)(300L)

Choker: BUFFY'S - Galina Choker - LGM [mesh](Midnight Order)(1333L)

Necklace:  REQUISITION - Justiciar's Livery Chain [mesh](Midnight Order)(350L)

Earring: LEX - Bat of Hell [mesh](Midnight Order)(249L)

Belly Strap, belly ring: Aii - BlackMage, Athletic, Belly Straps, Navel Piercing [mesh]

Claws: L'Emporio&PL - Oblio Vampire Claws male [mesh](350L)

Hair: bonbon - tame hair, naturals [mesh](439L)

Shine: BLAXIUM - Sweaty Body Shine [applier]

Head: LeLUTKA - CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

Pose: 3M - gogogo_A_7

Setting:

Chair: Midwest - Ash Recolor Pack - Armchair Cream [mesh](199L)

House: Fanatik - Sky Tower [mesh] (3800L)

Door PBR: Erfe Design - Medusa Floor PBR  Material, black [PBR]

Room PBR: Erfe Design - Maldives  Marble Material, ivory [PBR]

Chair PBR: ARTSY - Velvet Fabric 0 [PBR]

Skyline: AXON Skybox - Cyberpunk megapolis [mesh](50L)

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots, hi-res, midday sky :

 

Midnight Order: Escape from Club Apophis, 10

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: A dense fog curled over the stadium like a digital filter gone rogue, muting color and casting everything in a washed-out grey.

Still, the crowds came.

Fans poured in from all sides, decked out in crimson Jae Won Dragons jerseys, reactive face paint, and pulsing halo banners. One projected a flickering “GO DRAGONS!” in bold red above a kid’s head. Another shimmered with a sarcastic thumbs-down emote, aimed squarely at the freak weather.

Overhead, news drones buzzed like flies drawn to prophecy.

Then Lisa Liemawr’s voice dropkicked the stadium speakers like a pop idol crash-landing onto the PA system.

“Don’t adjust your glasses. No, your optics aren’t glitching,” she purred. “It is seriously foggy out here! Like—OMG, who ordered the haunted mansion DLC for opening day? Someone cancel the séance and bring back the sun!”

Her laughter crackled like static glitter.

“But don’t panic. Your girl Lisa is locked in with a full drone squad, so you won’t miss a single steamy second of our cyber-prince, Lathandro, making his legendary baseball debut!”

She winked into the cam drone. “This is Hexa Herald Live, your #1 source for everything scandalous, cyber-beautiful, and definitely not school-sanctioned.”

A sharp burst of static.

Then a clipped male voice: “We apologize for the unauthorized transmission. For official coverage of the Jae Won Dragons Season Opener, please connect to the Jae Won Athletic Portal.”

Cut to Lisa, already halfway up a stairwell toward the upper deck, red hair swinging as her drone hovered behind. “Okay, okay. Maybe I wasn’t technically authorized to hijack the PA system. Boo, censorship!”

She gestured behind her at the looming glass skybox, carved like a luxury mausoleum into the stadium’s upper ring.

“That, my scandal-hungry sweets, is the brand new Obsidian Lounge. Gilded ceilings. Black-tinted views. Total donor drama. And I’m getting in.”

Cut to her crouched by the matte-black door, holding up a silver device.

“I know what you’re thinking. Lisa, isn’t this wildly illegal?”

Grin.

“Only if you get caught.”

Click. The door hissed open, icy air slipping out like breath from a crypt.

“Behold. Where megadonors sip nutrient wine... and pretend to care about sports.”

She steps inside. The drone follows, revealing sterile opulence: hover chairs without a crumb in sight, temp zones, anti-UV glass, mood lighting like a Bond villain’s spa.

“Bougie much?”

No chatter. No drinks. Just rows of blank black monitors. 

Lisa’s grin falters. She shivers, rubbing her arms. “Okay, exclusive tour complete. Time to bounce before they send security.”

She spun to leave, and froze.

Where there had been an open doorway, now a thick curling fog coiled inward, slow and deliberate, seeping across the polished marble like something alive.

Her Cam Bot whirred, zooming ahead, just before static fuzzed the lens.

The tall figure stepped from the fog like royalty arriving late on purpose. His heels clicked with absolute disdain. A cape of white trailed behind him like smoke. He paused on the marble threshold, lifted his gloved hand, and slid his sunglasses up just enough to hide the faint, unnatural glow beneath.

Lisa’s eyes widened. Her camera bot hovered uncertainly beside her, still streaming.

She forced her signature grin. “Okay, Dragonlets, plot twist! We have a surprise cameo from none other than Dr. Lucien Ginerva, founder of GIN AESTHETICA™, biotech visionary, and the megadonor behind this gorgeously extra Obsidian Lounge! Aaaand I definitely did not break in to get here.”

She gave a theatrical shrug, trying to keep it light. “So, what do you think, Doc? Worth the donation?”

MasterGin's smile was elegant and rehearsed, yet somehow colder than the fog curling around his boots. "Functional. Though the security is appallingly thin."

Her laugh flickered, high, hollow, and a little too loud. “Haha, classic rich-guy shade. Sooo... you here to catch your golden boy’s debut? Lathandro’s big moment?”

He turned slowly, savoring the question like a fine wine. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he purred. Then his smile thinned. “We need to speak privately.”

He pivoted with surgical grace, navy leather gloves catching the light, each fingertip tipped in gleaming gold. As he flexed his hand, a visible arc of electricity jumped claw to claw.

The first thing to die was Lisa’s cam drone.

Zzzt.... A snap of blue light. The drone spiraled and crashed in a plume of smoke.

Then he turned to her, claws still humming.

“You and your cheerleader accomplice should have stopped at fan merch,” he said smoothly. “But you profited off what doesn’t belong to you. You sold what I created: the face, the body, the name, the branding. Everything Lathandro is a registered trademark under GIN AESTHETICA™... right down to the perfectly placed mole on Yoon Jihoon’s ass.”

Lisa stepped back, posture faltering. “You can’t… you wouldn’t,” she said, her voice stretched taut behind the flicker of a falling grin. “Let’s make a deal. I’ve got reach. Influence. You want to control the narrative, right? I can help—”

“Enough. Your little puppet show’s over,” he said coldly. “My lawyers are en route to your apartment. Yes, where your real body sleeps behind a firewall that won’t hold.”

Her avatar twitched, lips flickering with a static stammer.

“I look forward to your prison stream, my dear. No filters, no enhancements. Just you, as you really are. A tragic downgrade.”

Zzzt.... Another flash of voltage.

Lisa’s avatar collapsed like a doll with cut strings, glassy eyes flickering once before going dark.

With a whiff of ozone and scorched plastic, MasterGin stepped past her crumpled body as if she were a steaming pile of refuse befouling his polished obsidian floor.

From behind the tinted windows, Lucien Ginerva raised his chrome-sight binoculars.

The thick fog gripped the stadium like white velvet steeped in rot, soft and suffocating, leaving just one immaculate sightline: Jihoon, alone in the dugout, head bowed.

He wasn’t wearing the high-tech gear personally designed for him. Not the UV-proof bodysuit laced with nanofibers. Not the smart boots. Not the reenforced carbon-fiber bat etched with the Lathandro™ brand.

Instead, Jihoon was with her, that grimy little machinist with a spinal column of schematics. She was touching his Lathandro, defiling those perfect cheekbones with drugstore sunscreen.

Gin’s grip tightened on the viewing rail. His rings creaked.

*I warned you, Little Worm… You don’t belong among them anymore. Daylight will crack your pretty dollface.*

Jihoon’s eyes immediately flew open and frantically searched the stands for The King Cobra.

From his lofty perch, the doctor stepped into the hazy daylight, his long white hair whipping like fire. In one hand: an ornate bottle rimmed in gold—an exact twin of the SPF 100 Nano-Serum he had sent Jihoon.

He flicked a gold claw. The bottle opened. Then, slow and deliberate, he poured its priceless contents across the ground. The serum hissed as it hit the warm concrete.

No smile. No parting glance. Just a turn, heels clicking into fog like a metronome counting down to tragedy.

Outside the skybox, he paused.

Above him, the stadium’s half-dome loomed, the curved jumbo screen flashing Jihoon’s face in slow motion as he stepped up to bat, smiling nervously at the crowd.

The fans chanted, “LATHANDRO! LATHANDRO!”

And by the time the King Cobra reached the garage, the fog had thinned. A black limousine idled. Diplomatic plates gleamed. Gold flags on the hood bore the crest: a snake swallowing the sun.

Just behind it, sleek, low, and quietly seething, hovered his personal car, penned in by the limo.

His eyes narrowed. 

This wasn’t a pickup. It was a leash.

The chauffeur stepped out: tall, faceless, chrome-masked, “The Ruler is expecting you. Your flight to America is waiting.”

MasterGin said nothing. His claws tapped once against each other. Then he turned, flung his cape over one shoulder like armor, and entered the waiting car with a haughty sneer.

The door hissed shut behind him like a blade into its sheath.

Through the rear window, the fog that cloaked the stadium began to dissolve, retreating like a fading shield.

The crowd roared. A bat cracked. Then a gut-wrenching screech cut through the air.

A terrible hush fell over the stadium.

Ambulances screamed past as the limo glided onto the elevated expressway. 

Enraged, MasterGin’s hand slammed the console. Mozart’s Requiem surged through the cabin, loud and relentless.

He sat rigid, every muscle locked tight as he fought the flood inside, -- the grief, the anger, the silent plea.

A single tear slipped down behind his dark sunglasses. Hot. Traitorous.

He wiped it away.

No one should ever see cracks in a perfectly sculpted mask.

For followers who made it this far in the ongoing Apophis series, thank you. This is an ending but with a strong option continue in a sequel. 

Midnight Order is going strong and this round there are several gothic themes not covered before, such as Kpop Demons and the Dark Ages! For this image, I focused on Elegant and Gold. MasterGin is wearing the OneDays Regalia Outfit gold fatpack. The cape comes separate. A single color version is 350L, You know I love me some fancy.   ...Speaking of fancy, check out the gorgeous ISHIKU Dionaea guided crystal drink and bootle set. I hope you can see from the picture how nice it is. Masterful textures and materials.  ...And it goes perfectly with the Eclectica- Gothic Bar Set. I love the arches on the wall and dresser display! The barstool includes several poses, the bar includes useful poses for the bartender including cutting limes, polishing glass, pouring wine, stacking glasses. It can Rez bar items like tap, port, wine, limes, and anyone can sit on bar to trigger items. Just touch the glass/bottle/barrel to get your drink.   ...My bartender for the image is the Whats Lost Spirits TV MAN. His face inside the tv is an aniamated eye. It's mod so I gave him a slight gold tint. to make it fit with slightly cyber theme instead of retro, I hid his rabbit ears antennas. He is a very fun sculpture!   ... {anc} always excells at elegance and mood. The panel lamp stands are more soft winners that can add a dreamy polish to a room.   .... From Random Matter is the Stargazer [Part II], part of a themed set. You can find other items in the at thier booth in Midnight Order.  ... From CABALPIER is the elegantly twisted Forgotten Birdcage. I included a 2nd image below so you can see the poor bird who didn't make it.

On him, MasterGin:

Outfit, cape: Onedays Nightborn Regalia Outfit gold fatpack, Athletic [mesh](Midnight Order)(1500L)

Bottle, glass: ISHIKU Dionaea Guilded Crystal Set[mesh](Midnight Order)(470L)

Hair: Ginko Hair #97 Hair - Rigged, Male [mesh]

Gloves: CURELESS[+] Nepenthes Glove L / LEGACY M[mesh]

Cigarette holder: GRAAL SMOKING SNAKE [mesh](349L)

Glasses: Kumaki Glasses K_gs Kasha_R2 [mesh]

Eyes: S0NG Vampy, Old Ice Eye [BOM]

Skin: Skin Arcana Maverick, FAIR [BOM]

Head: LeLUTKA CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

Pose: ZZANG Strength 002 (edited in firestorm)

Setting:

Bar: Eclectica Gothic Bar set [mesh](Midnight Order)(550L)

Globe: Random Matter Stargazer [Part II] Globe, Gold [mesh](Midnight Order)(125L)

Lamps: {anc} panel lamp stand 2Li (amber) [mesh](Midnight Order)(269L)

Birdcage: CABALPIER Forgotten Birdcage <PBR>  [mesh](Midnight Order)(345L)

Bartender: Whats Lost Spirits WLS - TV MAN  [mesh]

PBR Walls, Floor: Erfe Design Medusa Floor PBR Material [PBR]

Skybox: CANARUN Rock/Concrete Loft Skybox [mesh]

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots, hi-res, midday sky :