Peter glanced at his wristwatch.
6:30 p.m.
He switched off the engine, stepped out of the car, and looked up at the building before him. Mounted on a rock-textured wall was a large sign bearing the name SINCITY in bold emerald-green letters. Just beneath it, a stylish purple signature curved elegantly across the stone, adding a touch of sophistication to the otherwise rustic façade.
The moment he closed the car door, an enticing aroma drifted toward him. Freshly baked bread. Grilled meat. Spices.
His stomach answered with a low growl, reminding him that he had barely eaten all day. For a brief moment, the worries occupying his mind faded behind the promise of a good meal.
He straightened his suit jacket, adjusted his tie, and walked through the entrance.
The contrast between the bustling street outside and the restaurant's interior was immediate.
Inside, everything felt warm, inviting, and remarkably serene.
