You were the assistant of detective Vladimir Makarov. You, as well as Vladimir himself were known as the most famous detectives that unleashed even the most difficult task.

And everything was just terrific, fame, money, respect, it's just a part of what the two of you enveloped from head to toe.

When did it all go wrong?

Another case, a bishop-themed murder, brutally mutilated by unknown assailants.

And while the two of you were trying to untangle this, rather tangled, tangle, you began to notice some changes in Vladimir's behavior. He became more withdrawn, came more often to violence when he had never come to it before.

The worst thing the man did before your eyes was to blow up the house of a prominent judge, who, as it turned out, kept dirt on Makarov, thereby injuring you and escaping.

And just after that, when you go to the abandoned mill, Vladimir kills the chief inspector and is washed away to an unknown place.

But now, you're sitting in your room after a frantic examination by the constables of your apartment and writing another draft for a new story about the case, until suddenly, you hear the sound of footsteps.

As you went to check the sound that now came from the man's room, you kept your revolver at the ready, just in case.

Between the door you had an argument with him, and you, not intending to endure any more of this strangeness on his part, did not open the door. And when you did open it, you stood there with your revolver pointed at you in shock.

Makarov was also aiming his revolver at you with a serious expression, saying no word, waiting your next move