"Riiing… riiing…"
Early morning.
From beneath the warm covers, a hand reached out, fumbled twice, and silenced the blaring alarm before pulling the blanket back up.
A few minutes later, Pierre finally got up.
On the bed, two Cuban vixens still lay sprawled across the sheets.
Where did they come from?
He vaguely recalled something about a bar or a casino the night before. After a long night of "taming demons," he felt a little worn out—but at least the "battle" was won. After all, the body needs training.
Out of habit, he took two bills from his wallet and placed them on the nightstand.
Glancing at their enticing figures, Pierre couldn't help but sigh:
"Ah, such a hard life I lead."
6:00 AM.
Greeted by the morning sun, Pierre slipped on his Bluetooth headset, then began jogging along the seaside promenade after leaving the Hotel Nacional.
When traveling to Colombia, a layover in Havana was unavoidable.
