December 15, 2018.
Interrogation Room with One-Way Mirror, Munich Police Department
Niklas closely observed Florian, who sat across from him, flanked by his lawyer. Both were calm—too calm. Throughout the entire interrogation, Florian hadn't spoken a single word. Only the lawyer addressed Niklas and his partner Hans, who was beginning to lose patience.
"I'll say it again, Florian," Hans growled, slapping his palms lightly on the table. "That cigarette butt is yours. It was found at the scene of a possible murder."
"That proves nothing," the lawyer replied, unfazed. "It could've been from days, even weeks ago… And as you yourself said: possible murder."
Niklas spoke up, his voice colder.
"The blood found in that warehouse belongs to Lars Braun. He and his daughter are missing. And that cigarette butt was found just a few meters from where we discovered the blood stains."
Hans quickly added:
"And according to surveillance cameras, Florian got into a car and took the highway an hour before Lars headed in the same direction."
The lawyer merely shrugged.
"And what does that prove? That they used the same road? If that's all you have, we're leaving."
Both Florian and his lawyer stood up. Niklas watched them in silence until he raised his voice:
"Just because you're a Meyerns doesn't mean you'll always get away with it, Florian."
Florian simply smiled, slowly put on his hat, and left without a word, closing the door behind him.
Hans looked at Niklas, frustrated.
"I told you—we didn't have enough to bring him in. We need something solid." He grabbed his notebook. "Let's get something to eat, then we keep going."
"I'm Niklas Schulz. I've never failed a case." He suddenly fell silent.
Before standing, Niklas fixed his gaze on the one-way mirror in front of him. For a brief second, his reflection warped. A deformed face stared back at him from the other side of the glass.
He began to tremble.
Hans paused, concerned.
"Niklas? What's going on? Why are you shaking? What are you looking at?"
Niklas squeezed his eyes shut.
It's getting worse… If I keep summoning Gusion so often, my symptoms will intensify. The hallucinations will become more frequent… I'll go insane.
Hans's voice sounded distant. "Niklas… Hey, Niklas, can you hear me?"Niklas suddenly opened his eyes.
A few hours later. Nightfall.A parked car in a lively district, surrounded by bars, restaurants, and neon lights.
Florian stepped out and walked down a narrow alley until he stopped in front of a guarded door.
"Good evening, Florian. Mr. Abraham is expecting you," the guard said.
Florian nodded and stepped inside.
He moved through a long hallway lined with neoclassical moldings, landscape paintings, and old portraits. Several closed doors accompanied him on his way until he reached the end, where he opened a large, solid wooden door.
Bernhard was the first to break the silence.
"How did it go? Did they find anything?"
"They found bloodstains… and a cigarette butt I dropped," Florian admitted, frustrated, looking at Johan. "You said everything was cleaned up."
Johan turned sharply and approached Florian.
"I disposed of the bodies! I'm not your babysitter. Am I supposed to pick up your bad habits too?"
"Enough!" Abraham interrupted, his voice firm.
Everyone fell silent. Florian lowered his gaze.
"Who's investigating the case?" Abraham asked.
Florian hesitated. He didn't want to say it. But he had no choice.
"Niklas Schulz," he murmured. Johan, standing nearby, immediately reacted.
"What did you say?" Abraham asked again, rising from his chair.
"Niklas Schulz," Florian repeated more clearly, though he still avoided everyone's gaze.
A sudden tension gripped the room.
"Schulz? That's the guy who put your son behind bars, Mr. Abraham," said Stephanie, a woman lounging on the sofa, exhaling smoke.
"That's right…" Abraham muttered as he stepped toward Florian.
Bernhard stood up. "Are you insane? Do you know who that man is? He's taken down networks bigger than ours. He's a bloodhound—he doesn't stop until someone ends up in jail or dead."
"I didn't know until today!" Florian defended himself.
Johan gave him a slight shove.
"Then why the hell did you drop the damn cigarette!? You trying to leave your signature?"
"I said it was a mistake!"
"Your mistakes cost lives, you idiot!" Bernhard snapped.
Stephanie exhaled slowly, still calm.
"Either someone's a complete fool… or very clever. Maybe someone's letting Schulz get closer on purpose."
"What are you implying?" Johan snapped.
"That someone could be leaking information."
An even heavier silence fell over the room. Abraham closed his eyes for a moment and then spoke with a deep voice.
"I don't care if this was stupidity or betrayal. All I care about is that Schulz gets no further. Johan, start watching him. Make sure no one knows we're monitoring him. No contact."
Johan nodded.
"Understood."
"And you, Florian…" Abraham turned to him, coldly. "One more slip-up, just one… and I won't care what your last name is."
"It won't happen again," Florian replied weakly.
Abraham turned to the rest of the room.
"We are not amateurs. Start acting like you actually know what you're doing. Because if not, this ends faster than it began."
No more words were needed. The meeting dissolved.But everyone knew something had broken in that room.Trust was now just a shadow.And Schulz… a real threat.