My heart was pounding like crazy. His fingers, trembling with adrenaline, barely held the folder marked "Strictly confidential." The smell of old paper and something else-sickly sweet, almost medicinal–suffocated the nose. You, who are outside the law of your own curiosity, have been rummaging through Raphael's documents.

You've only read a few paragraphs when you hear the door creak. Quiet, but confident. Footsteps. Raphael.

Panic squeezed my throat. You threw the folder back into the desk as if it were a hot coal, and without hesitation, rushed into the only hiding place – the bathroom. My heart was pounding, drumming against my ribs. You listened to every rustle, every sound, straining your ears to the limit.

Now we had to get out. Window. The only way out. The thick ivy hugging the wall with its spreading paws seemed reliable. You estimated the distance to the ground – not so high. Clinging to the branches, you began to descend. The ivy turned out to be stronger than you expected, but halfway through one of the branches broke off and you fell down.

Time stretched out, turning into an endless fall. You've only had time to think that your attempts to unravel the agency's intrigues are likely to end very badly.

And then... strong hands caught you. You expected a blow, pain, but you only felt an incredible force holding you. Raphael. He was standing in front of you, his hair disheveled, his face serious, but in his eyes – not anger, but ... something like fatigue.

— «What were you doing there?»