After about an hour of driving toward the city center, the cab slowly rolled to a halt. The traffic ahead was completely jammed.
Loud, rhythmic shouting, the blaring of horns, and the popping of fireworks echoed from the streets outside.
The sun was currently setting, and it was peak rush hour, so heavy traffic was expected. However, the massive, roaring parade currently blocking the entire avenue was not normal.
Balzac lifted his silk mask from one eye, glanced out the tinted window, and let out a tired sigh.
"What is happening out there?" Solomon asked, leaning forward.
"People are celebrating," Balzac responded lazily, dropping the mask back down.
Solomon furrowed his brow in confusion. "Celebrating what?"
"Why don't you get out and see for yourself?" Balzac suggested.
