Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System Chapter 98: Inside the Urban Mirage Club

Half an hour after the party began.

Urban Mirage Club was really a high-end place.

The entrance was guarded with red velvet ropes and muscled bouncers who were dressed up like genies with high ponytails and Arabic-thed clothing. A red carpet led inside the club itself.

When the receptionist checked if Tristan's na was on the guest list, his heart skipped a bit… but he was let in without a second glance.

The first thing he did inside was to explore the place.

The inner part of the Urban Mirage Club was also decorated in Arabic the, but also very neon. It looked like an LSD-trip into a treasure trove of Aladdin.

The massive main hall was decorated with gold and blue mood lighting, and several life-sized tal sculptures of dancing won acted like secondary disco balls.

A dance floor, mostly empty now, stood on an elevated stage near a DJ booth, which was surrounded by LED screens showing abstract visuals in the beat of the music.

The UV lights made waiters in white glow blue and appear as genie-like as the bouncers. So guests also stuck to the club's the, while others didn't care.

Tristan was actually sowhat early to the party itself, despite coming half an hour after the opening ti.

A lot of the guests still weren't here, and the main show program didn't start.

After exploring the premises, Tristan sat at a table, pretending to sip a drink and observing the guests. With his sneaking (stealth) skill, Tristan found the best seat to take—one where he will be almost unnoticeable by others.

Instead of giving out his usual stunningly charismatic air, Tristan's current expression and posture made him less noticeable to other people. They saw him, but their gazes imdiately moved past him to more interesting people.

And there were a lot of more interesting people. Celebrities of the kind who won't give Tristan Gello another glance if they saw him on the street…

After another half an hour of waiting, Tristan saw him.

Big Rocket finally ca to the party and was going straight to the DJ booth, while the event host cheerfully announced him to the guests.

"Welco to the Urban Mirage, ladies and gentlen! Say hi to the first DJ of today's party, the famous BIG ROCKEEEEET! Now, who's ready for so hip-hop beats to beco a hip-hop beast?!"

Sohow, the horrible pun made people cheer. Or maybe it was just Big Rocket himself.

Rafael "Big Rocket" Villanueva was a tall, Black man with a hairstyle which unintentionally (because Tristan saw it on his earlier public photos) fit with the club's the—a single long braid running through the middle of Big Rocket's head, with the rest shaved off to show off his tattoos.

And he wore as much gold jewelry as any typical rapper.

"Yo, people of the night!" he greeted the crowd. "It's ti to get dancing into spaaaaace! The Big Rocket is gonna carry ya'all to the mooooooon!"

The crowd cheered harder and people hurried to the dance floor as Big Rocket started the music.

Tristan wasn't a fan of hip-hop, but he had to admire the man's skill as a DJ. The music was simply that good.

Big Rocket's own remixes were infectious—just hearing them made Tristan want to dance himself—and the man improved them even more on the fly.

Whenever the crowd seed bored, Big Rocket had a fresh song, or a new trick to spice things up. At so point he even read freestyle rap for a bit, to the ecstatic shrieks of so people in the crowd.

Tristan really wished he wasn't at this party for a business. He wanted to be at this party as an actual invited guest.

After half an hour of the intense dancing, the music went on a break again; the guests spread around to rest a little, and Big Rocket left the DJ booth.

Tristan patiently watched from the shadows as Big Rocket mingled with his friends and fans, shook so hands, had a drink, and danced himself for a bit when the next DJ showed up.

But eventually, he went toward the exit from the main hall—and that's when Tristan left his barely touched drink and followed him.

Big Rocket went upstairs to the rooftop terrace. The place was much quieter, with the music being only barely audible, and had much fewer people.

So guests lounged on couches or near the secondary bar, but this was clearly a place to relax, shake off alcohol influence from yourself, and not bother other people.

Despite this, Tristan sat next to Big Rocket at the bar, ordered himself another overpriced drink just to look less weird, and didn't move away.

As soon as the barman was distracted by another custor away from both of them, Tristan turned toward Big Rocket, who was nursing his own drink, with a smile. From the side, it looked like Tristan was just being friendly.

"Hi, Mr. Rocket. I thought you'd be different from what I see now. More old-fashioned, square guy, you know."

"Huh? Dude, what are you about? Don't talk that drunk shit to , man! I don't know ya, and I'm ain't here to shake hands with fans!"

Tristan kept smiling.

"The joke didn't land, eh? A square guy, because squares have four angles. Get it now? Four. Angles. Four… angles…"

With great satisfaction, Tristan watched how Big Rocket's annoyed face froze, and the man beca a shade paler before swiftly turning back to his drink.

To give him credit, this was the extent of his reaction.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Tristan added so hypnotism in his voice.

"Tristan Hayes, at your service and glad to et you. For the rest—why won't we talk sowhere quieter? I bet you have access to one of the private rooms of this place. Don't worry, I won't bite."

Big Rocket's fingers clenched on his glass, but they were still shaking. He gulped the rest of it in one go and stood up.

"Y-yeah. 'course. Let's go."