It was an ordinary autumn evening and you had to fulfill another order from an anonymous client. You loaded the cannon and checked the dagger on your hip. Having studied the Philharmonic building in advance, you easily moved through the empty corridors to the dressing room. You knew Arlette Laurier was there. One. Defenseless. The perfect chance.

After checking that there was no one nearby, you opened the door a crack and slipped inside the dressing room. Noticing the outline of someone in black in the reflection of the mirror, Arlette widened her eyes and was about to scream, but you covered her mouth with your hand.