The three of them, along with the child, remained inside the car with the engine still running, parked in front of the mansion of the noble Von Hohenwald. The building loomed behind the wrought-iron gate, imposing and silent, as if patiently watching those who dared to stop before it.
They were all already wearing their masks.
Beneath the grotesque smile of the clown mask, Lars felt a constant pressure in his chest. It wasn't fear. It was frustration. A nearly physical need to understand who Von Hohenwald really was and how far his reach extended. The letter, the seal, the cold tone of the message… none of it matched the image of a mere eccentric noble.
Marcus waited without haste. He knew it wouldn't be wise to move too soon—not until one of the guards approached.
It didn't take long.
From one of the side booths, an armed man walked toward the vehicle. His posture was rigid, trained. He stopped beside the car and lowered his gaze toward Marcus, waiting for confirmation.
Marcus lowered the window just a little.
"Dominion."
Nothing more was needed.
The guard nodded immediately, stepped back a couple of paces, and spoke into his communicator. The gate began to open with a deep metallic sound, slow, almost ceremonial. It parted just enough to allow the vehicle through.
Marcus drove forward.
The car crossed the threshold and rolled onto the long stone driveway leading to the mansion. Tall trees flanked the path, cutting the morning light and casting long shadows across the windshield. No one spoke.
Marcus parked in front of the main entrance.
He shut off the engine.
For a second, no one moved.
Viktor, seated in the passenger seat, was the first to step out. He closed the door gently and adjusted his coat, scanning the perimeter with near-indifference. He didn't look impressed. Mansions, titles, and ancient surnames meant nothing to him.
Lars remained in the back, holding the child close to his chest.
Marcus reached for the door handle—
"Marcus."
Lars's voice stopped him.
Marcus froze and turned his head slightly.
"I need you to go to his study," Lars said. "Find out something else. Anything. Chances are he has an organization… and that this isn't the only child."
Marcus looked at Lars through the mask. Even without seeing his eyes, he understood there was no doubt in him. It wasn't a suggestion. Nor a formal order. It was worse—a decision already made.
"There's no point in me saying no," Marcus replied after a few seconds. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."
Lars inclined his head just slightly.
"If anyone asks," Marcus continued, "I had nothing to do with it."
Beneath the clown mask, Lars smiled.
"Relax," he said. "I'll take full responsibility. His study is on the second floor. Large double doors."
Marcus nodded once.
He said nothing else.
He simply… vanished.
The driver's seat was suddenly empty, as if no one had ever been there. The silence he left behind was brief, but heavy.
Lars stepped out of the car with the child. The boy walked beside him without resistance—without curiosity, without visible fear. His steps were short, mechanical. Lars adjusted the coat more tightly around his shoulders.
Viktor watched them approach.
"Ready?" he asked, emotionless.
"Yes," Lars replied.
Two guards waited at the main entrance. They showed no surprise. Asked no questions. They opened the doors quickly and stepped aside.
The interior of the mansion was vast, elegant, excessively orderly. Polished marble, antique lamps, paintings in gilded frames that seemed to watch them from the walls. Everything was designed to convey power, stability… and distance.
Lars walked forward without slowing.
Every step inside that place reinforced the feeling he'd had since the party: something was deeply wrong. Not just with Von Hohenwald, but with how easily everything functioned. The guards. The access. The silence.
Too clean.
Too accommodating.
The child reacted to nothing. Not the change in light. Not the echo of footsteps. Not the unfamiliar faces.
Viktor followed a few steps behind, alert but calm.
"Remember," he said at last. "This is just a delivery."
Lars didn't answer.
His eyes, hidden behind the mask, lifted toward the staircase leading to the second floor… exactly where Marcus had disappeared.
The mansion of Von Hohenwald wasn't just a destination.
It was a warning.
They waited a few minutes in the grand foyer.
The silence was almost uncomfortable, broken only by the faint ticking of an old clock hanging on the wall. The child stood motionless beside Lars, staring at the floor. He didn't move. Didn't ask questions. Didn't react.
Then footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Slow. Deliberate.
Mr. Von Hohenwald descended the main staircase wearing a rehearsed, almost exaggerated smile. He was dressed in an impeccable suit—far too elegant for that early hour. Every movement seemed calculated to be observed.
Lars stared at him.
Just like the first time. Theatrical. Excessive. As if reality itself were just another stage.
As the noble came down, Viktor leaned slightly toward Lars and murmured:
"Where's Marcus?"
Lars shrugged without looking at him.
"I don't know."
Viktor didn't press further. He turned his head—just as Von Hohenwald reached them.
The noble opened his arms with restrained enthusiasm.
"Hello, gentlemen," he said warmly—too warmly. "How are you?"
His eyes settled on Viktor.
"You're not the same one as last time," he continued, tilting his head. "You're wearing a different mask."
Viktor didn't reply. He simply listened.
Von Hohenwald then looked at Lars, focusing on the clown mask.
"But you are," he smiled. "I remember you. You didn't say a word back then… you just listened."
He extended his hand first to Viktor. Viktor shook it with neutral firmness—neither squeezing nor loosening too much.
Then Von Hohenwald did the same with Lars.
Lars took his hand.
And squeezed.
One second longer than necessary.
Von Hohenwald raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised by the intensity, but kept smiling. Lars released his hand without a word.
The noble adjusted his coat and spoke again, his tone now carrying a poorly concealed urgency.
"So…" he said. "My request. Did you find him?"
Lars stepped slightly to the side.
The movement was slow. Deliberate.
The child was revealed.
Von Hohenwald's eyes widened. His smile stretched immediately, almost grotesquely. He began to clap softly—slowly at first, then with growing enthusiasm.
"Excellent… excellent…" he repeated. "I knew Dominion wouldn't disappoint me."
He stepped closer, observing the child with unsettling attention, as if appraising a valuable object.
Then, still smiling, he slipped a hand inside his coat and pulled out a thick envelope.
He handed it to Lars.
"Here's the remaining payment," he said. "As promised."
Lars took the envelope. He didn't open it. The weight alone was enough.
Von Hohenwald stepped back, satisfied.
"It's been a true pleasure doing business with you," he added. "Truly."
Viktor watched in silence, attentive to every gesture, every pause. Something about the way the noble looked at the child felt… wrong. But he said nothing.
It wasn't his job.
Lars, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off Von Hohenwald.
Beneath the clown mask, his breathing grew slower, heavier.
The payment was made.
The delivery, complete.
Yet Lars felt that accepting the envelope didn't close anything.
He took a small step forward before he could stop himself.
"Sir," he said, "why did you ask us to find the child if he isn't yours?"
The silence fell instantly.
Viktor slowly turned his head toward Lars, glancing at him beneath his mask.
Von Hohenwald raised an eyebrow, surprised. His smile faded for just a moment—long enough to be noticed.
"You're not supposed to question anything," he replied softly, but firmly.
Viktor reacted at once.
"That's correct, sir," he said respectfully. "My partner is a bit tired from the trip. Please don't take his words into account."
Then he leaned slightly toward Lars and whispered sharply:
"Behave."
Von Hohenwald studied them both for a few seconds, as if weighing something unseen. Then, without another word, he turned his attention to the child.
He approached calmly and took the boy's hand.
"In less time than it takes a rooster to crow," he said with a wide smile, "you'll be back with your parents."
The child lifted his head.
For the first time since Lars had met him, he smiled.
A small, genuine smile. His eyes lit up with an emotion he hadn't shown before. Lars felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
Von Hohenwald looked back at the two men.
"I'll call Minister Matthias Vogel," he announced. "I'll tell him we've found his son. Stay—I'm sure he'll want to thank you personally."
Viktor answered without hesitation, curt but polite:
"That won't be necessary. Our work is finished. We're leaving now."
The noble inclined his head slightly, surprised once more by the coldness.
"What a shame," he said. "But I understand."
He released the child's hand carefully, as if it were fragile, stepped back, took out a handkerchief, and wiped his hands.
"Dominion… always so efficient."
Viktor nodded once. Lars said nothing. Beneath the mask, his jaw was tight.
He didn't trust that man.
And now, less than ever.
Lars and Viktor turned away without another word. The child remained with the noble, holding his hand with a trust that was hard for Lars to swallow.
As they walked away, Von Hohenwald casually took out his phone and dialed a number. Just before crossing the threshold, Lars caught his words:
"Hello, Matthias… I have incredible news for you…"
The mansion door closed behind them with a dry, final sound.
Outside, the morning air was cold and quiet. Viktor and Lars walked toward the car parked in front of the mansion. Viktor opened the passenger door. Lars opened the rear door—and froze for a second.
Marcus was already behind the wheel, engine running, ready to go.
Viktor settled into his seat and glanced at him.
"Where were you?"
Marcus kept his eyes on the road.
"Relax. I went to get some air," he replied. "I wasn't feeling great. I think the long trip hit me harder than I expected."
Viktor frowned slightly.
"If you're tired, I can drive."
Marcus shifted into gear, and the car began to move.
"No," he said calmly. "I'm driving."
No one argued.
When they left Von Hohenwald's residence behind and the gate disappeared in the rearview mirror, the three of them removed their masks.
Lars leaned his head against the seatback and closed his eyes for a moment. The image of the child smiling wouldn't leave his mind.
Marcus drove steadily, taking the road toward Dominion's hideout. The ride felt long.
At last, the car stopped in front of the entrance. Marcus parked and shut off the engine. The three of them got out.
At that moment, the main door burst open.
A large, broad-shouldered man stepped out first, his face hardened with anger. Behind him came a tall, thin man in an immaculate suit. At his side walked Lauren—elegant as ever, but with a serious expression.
The three passed by Marcus, Lars, and Viktor without stopping.
"Lauren," Lars greeted automatically.
She barely looked at him, responding only with a slight grimace, saying nothing.
They walked away.
Marcus watched them for a second longer than necessary and murmured:
"I've never seen the big guy that angry… what do you think happened between him and Sigmund?"
Viktor slowly shook his head.
"Nothing good," he said. "That's for sure."
Without adding anything else, the three of them entered Dominion's hideout.