The hotel lobby buzzed with well-dressed socialites and businessmen, each flaunting their wealth as if it were a contest. Marble floors gleamed under the golden chandeliers, and classical music floated gently through the air. Javier stood near the entrance, wearing a plain black shirt and dark slacks—unassuming, modest, and far from the designer-laden crowd that occupied the room.He approached the reception desk with quiet confidence, waiting patiently behind a group of guests who eyed him with visible disdain. One woman in a tight red dress glanced over her shoulder and scoffed.“Looks like security’s getting real lenient these days,” she whispered to her friend, not bothering to lower her voice.Her friend laughed, flipping her blonde hair. “Maybe he’s lost. Or looking for the kitchen entrance.”Javier said nothing, simply waited.The concierge, a tall man with a stiff posture and too much cologne, frowned when he finally looked up and saw Javier. “Sir,” he began, voice clipped and