He can't find any clothes.

The light of dawn filtered through the suite's automatic curtains. Magi woke up with a start, disoriented, on the white leather sofa where she had collapsed hours before. For a few seconds, she hoped it had all been a dream, a vivid and cruel nightmare. But then, the cold touch of the leather against her bare back and the weight of the still-damp towel around her shoulders dragged her back to reality.

It was not a dream.

The silence was absolute, broken only by the almost imperceptible hum of the air conditioning. She sat up with effort, feeling every muscle ache, every memory of the previous night embedded in her skin like a fresh scar. Her gaze fell first on the parchment paper envelope, still there, on the coffee table, intact. It looked thicker than she remembered, heavier. A part of her wanted to throw it out the window, to watch the bills scatter over the indifferent city. But another part, more practical and already resigned, knew that this money was now an extension of her survival.

A soft yet insistent bip broke the spell of silence. It was her phone, almost dead, vibrating on the carpet. She picked it up with fingers that felt like cotton.

The screen lit up, showing a message from May.

"Good work last night. Valence is satisfied. That is priceless. Report to the aquarium at noon. Don't be late."

There was no "please," no "hope you're okay." Only orders. What else could they take from me?, she thought.

With a trembling sigh, she headed to the bathroom. The suite was so large that the walk seemed endless. Every step on the cold tile reinforced her nakedness, her vulnerability.

Under the almost scalding stream of the rain shower, she tried to wash everything away. She scrubbed herself with the rough sponge hanging from the dispenser, rubbing her skin raw, as if she could wash away the memory of the latex touch, the coldness of Valence's gaze, the sound of the camera. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the enormous mirrors, hiding her reflection. For a moment, there was only the heat and the sound of the water, a temporary and deceptive refuge.

When she got out, wrapped in a large, fluffy towel that smelled of a strange, expensive perfume, she felt slightly more human, but terribly exposed. She needed her clothes. She needed her jeans, her sweatshirt. She needed layers of fabric to separate her from the world.

She returned to the main living area, where she had left her bag the night before. It wasn't there. She checked the dressing room, the entryway. Nothing. A knot of panic began to form in her stomach. She opened all the drawers of the built-in closet: empty. She checked behind the sofas, under the bed in the master bedroom. She only found more silence and empty space.

There were no clothes. Not hers, not a spare outfit, not a forgotten robe. Only the black evening dress, tossed in a corner like a snake's shed skin, and the lace lingerie, a cruel, tiny reminder on the carpet.

She stood in the center of the suite, gripping the towel tightly against her chest, feeling the cold, familiar panic begin to climb up her throat. She was trapped. Wrapped in a towel, in a cage of luxury, with nothing of her own to wear.

With trembling fingers, she picked up the suite's internal phone. She dialed the reception number, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Good morning, Penthouse 4 suite," an impeccably professional female voice said.

"Hello… I…," Magi swallowed, forcing her voice to sound embarrassed but casual. "I had a little accident with a wine bottle. My clothes are… ruined. Would it be possible to borrow something so I can leave? Something simple, anything."

A brief silence on the other end. Magi felt herself suffocating.

"Of course, miss. We'll send someone from laundry right away."

Ten endless minutes later, a soft knock came at the door. Magi tightly secured the towel and opened it just enough to peek out. A woman in a laundry uniform, with a tired but kind smile, handed her a plastic bag.

"Here you are. These are clean staff clothes. I hope they fit."

"Thank you," Magi murmured, feeling the blush burn her cheeks.

"You're welcome. It happens more often than you think," the woman said, but her gaze quickly swept over the luxurious suite behind Magi and then her towel-wrapped figure. It was not a look of judgment, but of curiosity… and a little pity. Magi knew, immediately, that the woman didn't believe the wine story.

After closing the door, she emptied the bag. It was a laundry uniform: loose-fitting, grayish pants and a rough cotton t-shirt with the hotel's discreet logo. There was no underwear. Dressing in these rough, anonymous garments was a strange humiliation. It wasn't the **** exposure of the aquarium, but a deliberate invisibility. She felt like a ghost, like another employee in the gears of a place that would never be hers. As she left the hotel, she avoided making eye contact with any employee. She knew her secret was weak, that this fragile story could break with a single whisper.

She walked toward the aquarium under the raw midday sun, feeling that every step was heavier than the last. She wore the skin that others had chosen for her: that of an anonymous employee or that of a luxury commodity. Both were alien. Both were cages.

As she turned the corner and saw the imposing façade of the aquarium, she knew that the night at the Grand Bay had not been an isolated episode. It had been a lesson. And the lesson was simple: it didn't matter what clothes she wore, because underneath, she would always be naked.

The service door was open. Waiting for her.