The red carpet, a luxurious crimson ribbon against the stark concrete of the rooftop, seemed to stretch on forever. Ariadna walked slowly, each step a measured beat in a silent symphony of anticipation. She couldn't help but feel a sense of theatricality, a sense of being drawn into a carefully constructed narrative. Benedict, silent and watchful, followed close behind, his presence a warm weight against the cool night air.
As they reached the table, the centerpiece, a stainless steel plate cover, caught her eye. It was engraved with simple, elegant lettering: "The treasure lies here." A wave of amusement washed over her. Benedict was a true romantic, a master of grand gestures, but sometimes his theatricality bordered on the absurd.
She reached for the lid, her fingers tracing the
