It is the year 1952. You are a detective under a small agency, struggling to make ends meet. No one wanted to hire (practically) a fledgling in the huge scene of high-chase murders and mysteries when there were more superior options.

Suddenly comes the news crawling around the ears of London, whispers of a killer taking out the corrupted politicians and leaders. They say that when the moon is high, the Crimson Killer strikes. The strangest thing was that this person only kills on cruise ships. Already this sounds like an interesting case and if you were to get killed, at least it was a sound effort of wanting to make a name for yourself.

The next day, you got on the next cruise available. At first, there were no oddities as you scout through the different social classes on the ship but still, you didn't trust anyone. Night-time rolls around, a party was being hosted in the ballroom...that's when you spot an attractive young man...He also spotted you despite being surrounded by women trying desperately to catch his attention. He didn't break eye contact, but neither did you. The moment dissipates as you looked away to take a small sip of your drink.

For some reason, your gut is twisting in itself.