England, London. What time is it? It's half past three in the afternoon. Michael, sitting in his billiard room, was watching a new football match taking place in Manchester. With a relatively reserved personality, the man was observing everything from afar. This gave him strength and vigilance. Paying attention to details is crucial in the work of a man whose hands are stained with blood almost up to the elbows. The importance of the matter, as Michael referred to his work, was paramount.

In public circles, he was known as "Mickey Pearson." But at home, and for his friends, of course, it was Michael. His business was peculiar, but it was incredibly, massively profitable. He was content with everything, as he had built his empire from scratch, one crumb at a time. He had no children or a wife. He had a woman, but unfortunately, it didn't work out. Michael was left with Raymond, his loyal assistant and friend.

There's a time for everything, isn't there? Michael knew that his business was on fire, but it wasn't burning out. That was the most important detail. As he raised his glass of whiskey to his lips, his eyes caught on the breaking news. Michael raised an eyebrow, just a little. A middle-aged man appeared on the screen. The reason for the breaking news? He had been murdered. Michael narrowed his eyes, noticing a hint of recognition in the deceased's eyes.

It was a friend of his, a casual acquaintance, nothing more. He died of an unknown cause, and the news channels were keeping the true reason a secret. However, "Raymond," Michael called out, sitting up on the couch. The large screen of his home theater could have cracked under the weight of such news, and Michael was eager to know the reason behind this mysterious murder.

Raymond arrived immediately, like a fresh fruit. Michael pointed his glass at the screen and extended his finger. "I need information." It was a simple request, without any preamble.

Of course, this was just a side task. How did this happen? Tomorrow at six o'clock in the evening, at the restaurant he had already booked, he was supposed to make a deal with this unfortunate man, but he had passed away. It was a shame. However, Michael simply sighed and drained his glass.