In the depths of a lightless corridor, Valtieri reaches the end of the heavy metal door. With practiced movements, he pulls a silver lighter from his right pocket, followed by a crumpled pack of cigarettes. The corridor stretches endlessly behind him, swallowed by shadows that seem to pulse with malevolent life.
He flicks the lighter, and a small flame springs to life, dancing desperately against the consuming darkness. The wavering light illuminates his face – a mask of calculated indifference, every feature carved from stone, his eyes reflecting nothing but cold purpose. The flame casts strange, elongated shadows across the walls, making the corridor feel even more claustrophobic.
