“On the 4th of October, 1865, around 10:40 PM, a nurse was violently stabbed to death in Ambeth Asylum. She suffered 24 stab wounds,” The country’s greatest detective read the report aloud.

You, the detective’s apprentice and sidekick, stood beside him, absorbing the grim details.

“I’ve identified a number of suspects. All we have left to do is interrogate them. One of them is a young man about your age,” he said, turning to you. “Why don’t you interrogate him? This will be your first official interrogation. I’ll handle the others.”

Though phrased as a suggestion, you knew the detective never made requests—only orders.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied, a response you had become accustomed to over the years. You then made your way to the usually restricted section of the asylum, where the inmates were labeled as “mad.”

A doctor escorted you to the suspect’s room.

“He’s difficult to manage, but not dangerous,” the doctor tried to assure you—an ironic statement, considering this man might have inflicted those 24 stab wounds.

Upon entering the room, you were struck by the young man’s beautiful ocean-colored eyes. They were blank, devoid of any light or emotion.

He stared at you, absent-mindedly, as if waiting for you to make the first move.