This update brings five new outfit vibes: Sailing, Spirits, Flash, Popup, and Vigorous. Also delivers critical bug fixes and optimized performance.
Mysteries of the Dressrious Salon — Chapter 89
Hector stood by the window, staring out at the dark expanse of the winter night. Though the world outside was still, a quiet tension gripped him from within. Since becoming a werewolf, he had lived in a remote cottage on the northern banks of the Hudson River with his pack. The group was small—just five males, including himself—and they led a life centered around hunting and fishing. Except for Hector, who had been turned by Gunnar, the pack’s alpha, all the others were brothers. They had broken away from a larger family up north and come here, seeking a fresh start.
Like the others, Hector should have severed ties with the past and embraced this new life. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the memory of Camila. He had planned to see her one last time before leaving, but rumors had reached him yesterday. She was meeting someone named Hector Tin at the Dressrious Salon. Something didn’t sit right with him. So, he borrowed a tuxedo from Gunnar, 3D-printed a mask from a local store, and used his newly acquired agility to sneak past the check-in robot. He had made it into the party unnoticed, but now he knew it was a trap.
It wasn’t a trap for him, though. It was a trap for whoever was trying to kill him, and they might not be working alone. They might be terrorists, and they likely had bigger plans than just targeting him.
Hector had been a soldier once, fighting terrorists in Bactria. He wasn’t afraid of them, not anymore. He was ready to face them if it came to that. But Camila… Camila was just next door. She could get caught in the crossfire, and he couldn’t let that happen. He glanced back at the suite’s door, wondering what she was doing. Was she asleep? He wished more than anything that he could be beside her right now, to keep her safe.
But for now, he had to remain in the shadows, watching, waiting for the trap to spring. The room was dim, only lit by the faint glow of city lights filtering through the window. Four coffee cups sat on the table, suggesting a gathering. In the bedroom, two mannequins lay on the bed, meticulously positioned to mimic sleeping figures. They had been borrowed from the Boutique downstairs, and a phone rested under the covers, playing a soft, snoring sound.
Suddenly, a noise broke the silence. Hector held his breath, his fingers tightening around the tranquilizer gun. It was just a couple laughing in the hallway, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. For the next ten minutes, there was nothing but stillness. But then, two soft knocks came at the door.
He moved quickly, silently, slipping into the walk-in closet and hiding behind the wooden frame.
The door creaked open with a soft ding, and a figure entered. The footsteps paused, drawn to the sound of the snoring phone. Hector’s heart raced as he saw a man in a staff uniform, a gun in hand, stepping toward the bed.
Hector glimpsed the figure as he passed the closet. The man was too close. He raised the gun, firing two quick shots into the bed.
Before the man could realize what he had hit, Hector fired his tranquilizer. The dart struck the man’s back, but the effect was immediate and underwhelming. The man spun around, gun raised, and fired at Hector with a speed that left him no time to react. The bullet grazed the closet frame, and Hector cursed silently. The cramped space wasn’t ideal for a fight.
He grabbed a heavy wooden clothes hanger and hurled it like a boomerang, catching the man in the throat. In the split second of distraction, Hector fired again. The dart struck the man’s left eye. The figure staggered, disoriented, and in agony, but still standing.
Hector dove to the edge of the bed, pulling a Swiss Army knife from his pocket. The man yanked the tranquilizer out of his eye, the pain almost blinding. Hector considered his next move: whether to transform or fight hand-to-hand, but just then, another figure entered the suite.
A gunshot rang out, and the man collapsed to the floor.
Ryan, the security captain of the Dressrious Salon, stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene. The injured man, still breathing, let out a low growl. His body began to convulse as he transformed, his eyes glowing yellow, claws elongating, and clothes ripping as his body grew into a massive, snarling werewolf.
“What the hell… again?” Ryan muttered under his breath.
Hector’s instincts kicked in. As the werewolf lunged toward Ryan, he threw the knife with deadly accuracy, embedding it into the creature’s abdomen. Ryan, already switching to silver bullets, fired off a volley of shots. The werewolf howled in pain, realizing he was outmatched, he turned and sprinted. With a powerful leap, he crashed through the floor-to-ceiling window. Glass rained down like diamonds as the massive form disappeared into the night.
Ryan sprinted to the ledge, his radio already at his lips. “A werewolf is escaping through the backyard. It’s wounded.”
The sound of the werewolf’s escape and the breaking glass had already attracted the attention of the guests downstairs.
“What was that?” someone shouted. “Is that a wolf?”
Screams and chaos erupted in the party hall. Guests rushed to the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the strange happenings.
At the bar, Trevor and Spion were finishing their second round of drinks with Merit and Cleo when the commotion caught their attention.
“We need to get upstairs,” Trevor urged.
“Sorry, ladies, duty calls,” Spion said with a shrug, apologizing to the women before they made their way toward the exit.
As they reached the suite, they found several guests and servers milling about outside. Ali was there too, calmly ushering the crowd back to their rooms.
Trevor and Spion squeezed past the crowd and entered the suite. Camila and Hector were sitting calmly on the sofa, their demeanor surprisingly serene. Ryan stood by the window, still keeping an eye on the backyard.
“It was a werewolf, but the captain drove it off,” Hector explained.
“Thank the gods for silver bullets,” Ryan added with a relieved sigh. “But the beast got away.”
“Did you see his face?” Trevor asked, eyeing Hector. “Do you know him?”
Hector shook his head. “No. He wore a mask, but he was in a staff uniform.”
Ryan nodded grimly. “He attacked one of our staff members. I’ve already ordered my team to review the security footage for any clues.”
“Well, we can discuss our next steps tomorrow,” Trevor said, his tone serious. “We’ll also make sure you two are safe.”
Before Hector could respond, a voice interrupted from the doorway. “I have a suggestion.”
Everyone turned to see James Style standing in the doorway.