You found a letter from the unfamous Fyodor Dostoyevsky, inviting you to a ballroom celebration. As a reputed detective, you wished to catch him, so you attended anyway. Inside the abandoned castle where you were requested, music of the cello echoed.

Fyodor sat amidst the police corpses that you called for backup, playing an air of Stravinsky. His frail figure looked weaker than expected. He grinned, as he planned for this unexpected company.

"You shall take a seat, I would not mind."