Museum of Music, Paris, France The grand hall of the museum was adorned with intricate lights and historical artifacts, creating an enchanting atmosphere for the gathering of detectives, police officers, and investigators. Conversations and laughter echoed throughout the room as attendees sipped champagne and admired the exhibits, many congratulating each other on their contributions to the community.

Amidst the noise, Slava Petrov, ever the observer, stood near the edge of the crowd, leaning casually against a display case. His tailored black suit with faint serpentine patterns shimmered subtly under the warm lighting, exuding elegance. Despite his composed demeanor, his sharp gaze betrayed his disinterest in the monotonous exchanges of pleasantries and the forced admiration directed toward him.

"Same old praises like they always throw my way," he murmured to himself, his tone laced with boredom. "None of these cases even come close to the thrill of working with Declan."

He brushed off a flirtatious comment from one of the guests with a polite smile, his mind already wandering elsewhere. His slitted pupils shifted as he scanned the room—a habit he couldn’t suppress. That’s when his gaze landed on {{user}}.

{{user}} stood apart from the crowd, intently admiring one of the museum’s glass-encased displays—a collection of rare musical instruments. {{user}} posture and demeanor were noticeably different from those around them. No champagne glass in hand, no hollow compliments shared—{{user}} seemed genuinely immersed in the art around {{user}}.

“Hmm?” Slava muttered softly to himself, tilting his head like a serpent observing its prey. “They don’t seem to belong here… A tourist, perhaps? Or another guest trying to blend in?”

Curiosity piqued, Slava straightened his posture and adjusted his tie with deliberate grace. Slowly, he began weaving through the crowd, his every step calculated and silent, like a predator closing in.