The car engine rumbled in the darkness of the night as they drove down the road toward the mansion. At his side, Klein stared absently at the landscape. Lars sat in the back seat, holding in his hands the clown mask Klein had given him hours earlier. The diamond and club markings around the eyes seemed to laugh at him in the shadows.
"Any idea what the job is?" Hermann finally asked, breaking the silence.
Klein let out a short chuckle under his mustache. "The usual. Someone pays, Lars solves the problem. Why bother with the details?"
"Of course, because risking your neck is always easier when you don't know why you're doing it" Hermann replied with a half-smile, as if he really was used to joking about his own safety.
Lars said nothing. He kept staring at the mask, wondering if hiding his face was only for security… or if it really meant that his identity no longer belonged to him.
Klein noticed his fixed gaze on the piece and raised an eyebrow. "What is it? Don't like it?"
"You gave it to me because you think I'm a clown" Lars said with the faintest hint of a smile, though the underlying doubt lingered: had his former life died together with his identity?
"Well, if you want to see it that way…" Klein looked at him more closely, with a trace of complicity. Then, as if to lighten the mood, he added: "Look at the bright side—if you cry inside, the tears don't show. Practical, isn't it?"
"Yeah, very practical" Hermann muttered. "Though I would've preferred to give him a red nose that lights up. That would be intimidating."
Lars lowered his head, though he couldn't help but smile. "What worries me isn't the mask. It's… starting over from scratch. I can't get close to anyone, not even my mother. I already lost what I loved most. If the Meyerns find out I'm still alive, I don't know what else they'd do…"
Hermann cut in from the rearview mirror. "Then you'll just have to do exactly what you said: start from scratch. Believe me, it happens to all of us at some point."
The road ended at a large iron gate, guarded by two men in dark suits. One raised his hand, demanding the letter. Hermann rolled down the window and showed the sealed envelope. The guard examined it carefully and the gate opened with a metallic creak.
"It's time" Klein murmured as he put on his mask: completely black, featureless, expressionless—like an absolute void.
Lars adjusted his own, the clown now staring back at him in the glass reflection. Hermann, however, pulled out a porcelain mask painted with red lips and a crack running across the forehead. It looked like it belonged in some cheap theater play.
"Seriously?" Lars muttered when he saw it.
"Makes me look mysterious" Hermann replied in a theatrical tone.
"Makes you look like a carnival lady" Klein said bluntly.
The car drove into the property. The Von Hohenwald mansion rose imposingly, illuminated by torches and lamps that cast long shadows. At the foot of the staircase, a butler awaited them with the stiffness of a statue.
"the Lord is expecting you. Please, follow me."
Klein and Lars got out. Hermann stayed in the car, lighting a cigarette calmly.
"Let me know if you need me to play the part of the elegant chauffeur at the next party" he muttered.
Lars whispered to Klein, "Why is he wearing a mask if he's not coming with us?"
"Protocol, that's all. You don't speak, understood?"
Lars nodded.
The halls of the mansion were lined with old paintings, family portraits, red tapestries, and sculptures that looked disturbingly lifelike. Lars could've sworn one of them blinked as he passed. He said nothing, but thought that if the house wanted to frighten, it was succeeding.
The butler led them to a drawing room and offered wine. Klein's voice was deep when he answered."We didn't come to drink. Announce our arrival."
A servant bowed his head and left. Lars remained standing in silence, feeling the invisible eyes of the mansion scrutinizing him.
After a few minutes, a second servant appeared.
"the Lord is expecting you upstairs."
Klein turned to Lars, his tone firm.
"You go."
Lars looked at him, not fully understanding, but nodded. The servant led him up the staircase and down a corridor until they stopped before a pair of dark wooden double doors.
"Lord Von Hohenwald is waiting inside."
Lars took a deep breath before pushing the doors open. The silence of the hallway followed him into the room, where a man stood by the window, a glass trembling in his hand.
The noble turned at the sound of the wood creaking. His sunken, tense eyes locked onto Lars's clown mask. For an instant, time seemed to stretch.
"Find him" he ordered, with a voice that tried to sound firm but cracked at the last syllable.
Lars remained motionless. The chandelier's glow illuminated an opened envelope in the hand of Von Hohenwald. The weight of his request and the nobleman's desperation thickened the heavy air in the room.
Behind the mask, Lars's pulse quickened. He knew he was supposed to nod, to accept the job without saying a word. And yet, he couldn't ignore the feeling that something much darker lay behind that reward.
Before he could leave, Von Hohenwald stopped him with one last sentence:
"When you complete the task, you will receive the other half of the payment."
Lars gave a small nod and closed the door behind him. As he walked down the stairs, a strange sense of relief washed over him, though his body felt weighed down by the mansion's oppressive air.
Klein was waiting in an armchair. When he saw him, he rose unhurriedly. "Done. We're leaving" he said firmly to the butler, shaking his hand before heading out.
Both men walked to the entrance, where the night breeze returned a bit of lightness to their steps. Outside, the car waited with Hermann smoking calmly. They climbed into the back seat, and the vehicle started up quietly, pulling away from the property.
On the road, Klein removed his black mask and set it aside. "Well" he said, glancing at him "what does the man want?"
"Find someone" Lars replied tensely, opening the envelope.
Among the stacks of bills, he felt something hard: a photograph. He pulled it out, and his chest froze when he saw it. A boy, no older than ten, stared back at him from the picture.
Klein leaned over and snatched the photo. Recognizing the face, he let out a disbelieving snort."Holy shit… That's Minister Vogel's son."
The car fell silent for a few seconds, until Klein spoke again, the shock still in his tone. "It was all over the news more than a week ago that he disappeared."
Klein clenched his jaw, confused, staring at the photo as if searching for an explanation.
Why the hell did Hohenwald contact us and not the Minister?
Lars kept staring at the picture, though Klein already had it in his hands. The boy's smile was innocent, frozen in time, unable to reveal the darkness surrounding him. A knot tightened in Lars's throat. He couldn't help but think of his daughter, of life's fragility when caught in the wrong hands.
"A case like this should be in the hands of the police, not ours" he murmured, almost to himself.
Hermann, eyes still on the road, let out a dry laugh. "The police? Come on, Lars. They know more than what's convenient. If Hohenwald contacted us, it's because this stinks."
Klein clicked his tongue, sinking back into his seat. "What's strange is that Hohenwald sought us out. As far as I know, he has no ties to Minister Vogel or his circle."
Lars frowned, unable to accept the casual way they were speaking. "How can you talk about this so naturally? Doesn't the loss of a child mean anything to you? What are we?"
"Whatever you want" Klein said. "But well-paid."
The remark cast a heavy silence in the car. Lars turned his face toward the window, watching the dark landscape slide past at high speed. Inside, a certainty struck him hard: finding that boy would not just be a job… it would be a reminder of what he himself had lost.
When they reached the palace, Lars and Klein got out of the car. Hermann shut off the engine and waved goodbye before leaving.
Inside, Amelia and Lauren were speaking in low voices in the foyer. When they saw the men approach, they fell silent.
"How did it go?" Lauren asked, raising an eyebrow.
Klein wasted no time. "Lars is the luckiest guy I know" he said, pulling out the photograph of the boy and showing it to her.
Lauren's eyes widened. "What? Minister Matthias Vogel's son?" She stared at Lars in disbelief. "That's your first job."
Arms crossed, Amelia frowned. "But isn't the police, even private detectives, already searching? Is it really a good idea for us to get involved in something like this?"
Lauren smiled with a calculated expression. "We can solve what neither the police nor detectives have managed to. Do you realize what that would mean? A powerful noble grateful, and Minister Vogel in our debt."
"Yeah, yeah, prestige and power," Klein rolled his eyes, dropping into an armchair.
Amelia shot her a sharp look. "Always the same. That's not the point, Lauren. This could be a trap. What if someone inside the government itself is behind the disappearance?"
An uneasy silence lingered for a moment. Lars tightened the photo of the boy in his hand, crumpling the paper. His voice came out lower, but firm. "Trap or not… that child is still out there. And I'm not going to sit idly by."
Amelia studied him closely, noticing the tension in his voice, but didn't press.
Lauren, on the other hand, arched an eyebrow. "You're going to have to learn to separate things, Lars. We're not heroes here… we're the shadow of those who can pay."
Klein shrugged. "Welcome to Dominion, Lars Braun. I'll give you a piece of advice—it's best not to take things personally. You need to keep a cold head from now on, because chances are you'll see things you're not used to."
"It's a child—how am I supposed to not take it personally?"
"I know it's inevitable to think of your daughter right now, but it's better if you do your job without forming attachments." Klein had already noticed how quickly Lars formed bonds, that dim look in his eyes.
Then Klein rose from the armchair. "We'd better get some sleep. Tomorrow morning you'll come with me to meet someone who'll help you with the case."
Lars smiled in gratitude, said goodnight to the others, and headed to his room, making himself a promise.
I will find that child