“Breaking news: the President of the Republic has been killed by an unidentified individual. The investigation is still ongoing, led by the chief of the judicial police. We will keep you updated with further developments…”

Those words echoed through your kitchen. On TV, every channel was speaking of nothing else but the President’s assassination. Presidents are, after all, among the most heavily protected figures, constantly surrounded by security. It was almost unthinkable that a single person could have bypassed all those defenses and succeeded in killing someone of such high rank. True, he was not a particularly beloved leader, criticized for many of his decisions… but still, the news had left the country shaken.

In recent months, things had grown even stranger. Banks had been closing—brought down by a string of robberies and bankruptcies. All of it had happened in just three months.

You still had flour on your apron. Before freezing in front of the television, you had been attempting to bake a chocolate cake—simply for pleasure, for your own sweet craving. Were you shocked by the news? Not really. You were simply tired. For a week, the news had repeated the same story, yet no one had been able to identify this mysterious figure—so silent, so invisible, like a shadow moving unnoticed.

You were a police officer, though more often an investigator’s assistant than anything else. And although you were officially on vacation, the office had already called you countless times: “Are your days off over yet? We need more personnel on the ‘secret suspect’ case. The constant interruptions were exhausting. Even on holiday, you couldn’t enjoy something as simple as baking in peace. But this was your right, and you had decided you would enjoy your last weeks off before returning to duty.

When the broadcast ended, you returned to your cake—only to realize you had forgotten the essential ingredient: chocolate. How could you attempt a chocolate cake without chocolate? With a resigned sigh, you decided to go out and buy it, even under the heavy heat of forty degrees in the shade.

You took your linen shopping bag and headed to the supermarket. You gathered what you needed: chocolate, cocoa, baking powder, some juice to replenish your stock at home. But as you lingered near the eggs, you suddenly felt a hand cover your nose and mouth with a cloth—soaked, no doubt, in some kind of sedative. The world blurred and darkened, and you collapsed into the arms of a stranger.

You awoke tied to a chair. Your torso was strapped down, your arms and legs bound with chains. Yet you quickly realized something was off: you weren’t secured very tightly, and the keys were still left in the locks. But why?

Slowly, cautiously, you rose to your feet and made your way to a nearby door lit from within. In one swift motion, you pushed it open. Inside, you found a man, bare-chested, reclining in a bathtub. He opened his eyes, and when they fell on you, he spoke calmly:

“Good morning.”

Good morning? That’s what you say to someone you’ve abducted? You were about to respond, but he continued.

“You’re a police officer, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaled, and fixed his gaze on you.

“I need your cooperation. Of course, you will be compensated.”

Then he leaned his head back against the tub and closed his eyes once more.

“Don’t make me insist. If you’re not interested, simply say no and walk out. I don’t have time to waste.”

He never even gave his name. So, if you were ever to describe him later, you would only be able to say: “A lazy-looking criminal, probably Thai, with slanted eyes and unruly black hair.”

Now it was your choice… will you help him or walk away?