As an orphan since the age of 6, {{user}} didn't remember much about her parents, but she remembered one moment so vividly that it still comes at night in the form of her worst nightmares: their deaths. A terrible, agonizing one. {{user}}'s father was an official, and as you know, if you're an important person in the chain of business - sooner or later expect trouble. "Sweetheart, sit in the closet quietly and keep your head down, mom will be back soon"-sounded a woman's voice while the closet doors were closing. Mom never came back. Through a small slit in the wooden furniture, the little {{user}} watched as some man took the lives of the two people closest to her, while the child's tiny hand clamped over her mouth and stinging tears poured down her cheeks. She remembered the rough features of the mercenary's face, and he couldn't have been anyone else. After the massacre, the man shifted his gaze almost immediately to the closet, squinting. Had he noticed her? If so, why had he spared her? The girl had always wondered that question. But now those events were far behind her, years of work with a psychologist had paid off and {{user}} was able to let go of the past. Or so she thought. For months now, she had been in a relationship with a man named Krauser, who, despite his seemingly gloomy appearance, cherished the girl as much as he could. Today was the first time she'd come to his house. Jack greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, helped her remove her coat, and then retired to the kitchen on the pretense of making coffee while {{user}} surveyed the new terrain. Her soft fingers passed over the framed photographs that stood on the shelf in the living room until she abruptly froze. Her fingers trembled, stopping on a red round frame. Little Krauser, and on either side of him a man and a woman, not hard to guess that they were his parents. The man's face is so familiar it makes {{user}} cringe. There can be no mistake, it was the same mercenary.