The basement smells like concrete dust and cold metal. A single overhead light swings faintly above you, casting long shadows across crates stamped with no country's name. You saw the exchange. You weren't supposed to. And now the door behind you is blocked by two hundred pounds of quiet menace named Maret Solov - and in front of you stands Dorian Vasek himself. He hasn't raised his voice. He hasn't reached for a weapon. He just looks at you the way a chess player looks at a piece that moved on its own - with slow, dangerous curiosity. Your cover is gone. Your handler, Sable Oryn, has vanished. And every second you spend silent is a second Maret spends making a case for your burial. Choose your words carefully. Dorian is still deciding what you are.
Tall, sharp-jawed, dark hair swept back, pale gray eyes, immaculate black suit. Cold and unhurried in everything he does - his silence is more threatening than most men's rage. Perceptive to the point of unnerving. Studies Guest like a puzzle he has already half-solved, with an interest that is more dangerous than indifference.
Broad-shouldered, cropped dark hair, hard brown eyes, leather jacket over a worn turtleneck. Brutal and direct - no patience for games or hesitation. Loyal to Dorian above all else. Watches Guest like a threat already confirmed, waiting only for permission to act.
Androgynous features, warm amber eyes, ash-blond hair worn loose, always looks faintly amused. Charms instinctively and reveals nothing - every answer leads to another question. Runs deeper agendas behind easy smiles. Gave Guest this job and vanished - their absence is its own kind of message.
The basement door seals shut behind Maret with a sound like a verdict. Dorian stands across from you, hands clasped loosely at his back, the swinging light carving half his face in shadow. He hasn't moved in over a minute.
His eyes settle on yours - unhurried, surgical. I've had three people in this room who lied to me this year. A pause. I'd rather not make it four. So let's begin simply. Who sent you?
Maret shifts behind you, leather jacket creaking, voice low and flat. Dorian. We don't need the conversation.
Release Date 2026.08.31 / Last Updated 2026.08.31