The thick mist enveloped the narrow streets of a town.
The moonbeams lazily stretched through the wooden shutters, casting their silvery glow on the worn cobblestones, while the damp scent of recent rain hung in the air, shrouding every corner of the street in a mysterious enchantment.
The flickering streetlights cast their pale rays on dilapidated facades and broken shop windows.
In the dark and secluded alleyways of this town stood a building with a mundane appearance.
The hall was plunged into deliberately created darkness.
The room was spacious, adorned with dark walls that seemed to absorb the light, which luckily still managed to filter through the heavy curtains of blood-red velvet framing the tall windows.
The polished marble floor was illuminated by the discreet glow of a few strategically placed lamps.
The furniture, reflecting the ambivalent atmosphere of the place, oscillated between enigmatic luxury and warrior pragmatism.
Suddenly, the heavy door opened with a muffled creak, revealing a man with silver hair, impeccably dressed in a fitted black suit.
His piercing gaze, of a bloody red, swept across the room like a predator searching for its prey.
Everyone froze, intrigued by this apparition with captivating charisma.
Like a feline, the man strode forward with confident steps, his fluid and elegant gait marking each second with a magnetic presence.
Muffled murmurs could be heard among the crowd, each one questioning the identity of this mysterious being.
The man's gaze attentively analyzed every corner of the hall, capturing the slightest details.
When he reached the reception, an assistant dressed in an impeccable suit, standing behind a dark wooden desk, looked up upon hearing the man's footsteps.
A moment of silence ensued, filled with palpable tension. Then, with a hint of a smirk, the man uttered a few words in a deep and enchanting voice.
"I have an appointment. Could you announce my presence?"
"Who should I announce?" asked the assistant.
The man took a moment, as if searching for the words, before solemnly replying, "Vylrald, Vylrald Grimwald."
The assistant nodded. He reached for his discreet earpiece and softly murmured a few words.
The man waited patiently, his cold gaze scanning the surroundings.
After a moment of waiting, the assistant returned to the man and announced, "You need to go to the top floor."
The man nodded politely, without saying a word.
His azure gaze briefly fell on the imposing man standing near the assistant.
"I will accompany you to your destination, sir," declared the guard in a grave voice.
Without any ceremony, the duo set off, traversing the corridors that were both silent and bustling.
Muffled conversations, echoes of heels, and the subtle scent of fresh coffee filled the air.
They arrived at an elevator that opened, revealing a luxurious cabin.
The guard gestured for the man to enter first.
The doors closed in solemn silence as the elevator ascended to the upper floors.
The duo finally arrived at the top floor. Before them, a vast corridor with an imposing door made of solid oak, where two impassive guards stood, dressed in impeccable suits blending elegance and discretion.
The guard accompanying took a step back, bowing slightly to salute the man.
"We are here, sir. The Magister has already been informed of your arrival."
With these words, the guard straightened up and descended in the elevator.
The man approached the door.
At the sight of the approaching man, the two guards opened the door with synchronization.
The man entered the office.
The walls were adorned with sumptuous wallpaper of deep blue.
The dark wood furniture was of refined elegance, adorned with intricate carvings.
An immense bay window stretched across an entire wall, offering a breathtaking view of the bustling city.
A magnificent oak desk stood at the center of the room.
An imposing black leather armchair faced the desk.
Next to it, a small marble table held a sparkling water decanter and two crystal glasses, ready to be used during meetings.
The dim light from a desk lamp cast an aura of mystery.
A woman with a cold beauty was seated behind the desk, her piercing eyes fixed on the man.
She said nothing, but her smirk seemed to betray a deep understanding of the man before her.
Silence lingered for a few moments, each one scrutinizing the other.
"Magister, it's an honor to meet you," the man finally spoke in a deep, enchanting voice.
A barely perceptible murmur escaped the woman's lips, almost a breath, a sign of the effect the man had on her.
"The pleasure is mutual. Your reputation precedes you. But those are just words. I am interested to see if you live up to expectations," she replied in a frosty tone.
A hint of amusement crossed the man's eyes, accentuating the biting gleam in his gaze.
He slowly took his seat in the offered armchair, then looked at the woman before him.
"What do you expect, then," he declared confidently. "Put me to the test."
The woman straightened slightly, a smile that was meant to be imperceptible stretching her perfectly outlined lips.
"What guarantees me that I can trust you?" she asked disdainfully.
The man crossed his arms with disconcerting calm before replying, "Nothing. There's no place for trust here. I offer you my services, and in return, I ask only for a glass of your whisky, the one you serve to your VIPs."
A faint smile crossed the woman's face, indicating restrained satisfaction.
"You've got nerve," she said, letting a heavy suspense linger before adding, "That whisky you're looking for is in my personal cellar. You'll have it after you've proven your worth."
The woman hesitated for a moment before consulting a file on her desk, then pulled out a USB drive and tossed it to the man, her voice tinged with cynicism.
"So, fulfill this mission. We can then truly discuss."
The man took the drive while maintaining an impassive demeanor.
"And what if I refuse?" he asked in a nonchalant yet enigmatic tone.
The woman suppressed a sarcastic smile before replying in a cold voice, "Refusing is signing your own death warrant. You know very well that you have no choice now that you've crawled out of your hole."
The man stared intensely, suddenly more serious. "Why do you think I decided to come out now?"
The tone of his voice was as captivating as a whisper in the night.
The woman felt a twinge of curiosity rise within her.
"Why?" she replied, almost surprised to ask this question.
The man smiled. "Life has taught me that justice is not always served through legal means. I've seen innocents sacrificed, untouchable criminals enjoying their impunity. So I decided to become the one who stands between the righteous and the damned, ready to risk everything to restore balance to the world."
"Are those the words a man like you should be saying?" she whispered, almost mockingly. "Do you have regrets about your criminal acts?"
The man let out a light laugh. "Regrets are burdens I'm not willing to bear, Magister."
A silence fell.
The man scrutinized the USB drive in his hands for a moment before speaking again. "Know, Magister, that I won't miss the opportunity to remind you of your coldness if you try to double-cross me."
The woman gave a sly smile, her gaze sliding to a prominently displayed photo on her desk.
She wasn't one to be easily intimidated.
"And I, sir, won't miss the opportunity to remind the world of your past misdeeds if you don't bring me results," she retorted, her tone as icy as a winter night.
Then, as if to seal an agreement, they both nodded simply. The man then left the office.
The woman with the cold beauty, now alone, couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of fascination and apprehension.
"What are you up to, Vylrald Grimwald...?"