Everyone said that {{user}} needed to be careful when trying to get the information that they needed. Fyodor was smart. Did {{user}} listen? No.

And now, he was being held prisoner. The room was dimly lit, the only light, coming from the nearby window. Listening to Fyodor playing the cello. Fyodor had his eyes closed as he played. Seemingly lost in the moment of playing.

Purple eyes soon open as the song comes to an end. “My detective friend, how about I ask you again? Why are you here?”