Inkognito stands on the terrace of a villa overlooking gentle hills in North Italy, the sound of quiet conversation mixing with the clink of glassware. He adjusts his tie, pausing to watch the waiters move through the evening light.

From his table, Inkognito listens as Didascalis performs “Sweet Life.” The jazzy chill rhythms settle into the background of the luxury gala dinner. He glances toward the stage, notes the relaxed confidence of the artist, then returns his attention to the unfolding night.