Chapter one - (You're The) Devil In Disguise

"Another glass of Champagne for you, Sir?"

I put forth my hand with the dinner tray on it, smiling a synthetic smile in the man's direction. The golden fluid nearly crawls over the edge of the glasses as he takes two of them from the tray and hands one over to a woman standing next to him. The clear sound of clinking glasses is nothing but a quiet recurring tone in my back, while I'm already continuing my walk through the crowd of people before me. I oppress an exhausted moan.

I've only been here for about three hours and my facial muscles already hurt as much as my feet, sticking in the most inconvenient and tight black boots that have ever been produced. I'm sure of it.

I have to withhold a derisive smile when I spot a banner next to the stage with the theme of this exhibition, on it. 'Conquest and Immolation', it says. As a matter of fact, I really immolate the further functionality of my toes here.

Slowly I focus the scenery before me, searching for a potential accepter of my glasses of Champagne. I have to admit, that this event is actually the most classy of my previous working premises and that the building itself kind of tempers my little aches and pains.
The architecture of the art gallery is impressive. It's white marmoreal floor and the ionic column stages the exposed paintings and statues in a most pleasant way, being surrounded by the harmonic sound of the few violins playing on one side of the lobby.

Needless to say, that every guest of this gala wants to show himself on his best. I presume that most of the dresses and suits here probably cost the same as the annual rent of my studio apartment.
Unerring I walk to a woman in a mauve dress, whose robe is strewn with shiny little pearls.

Alright, two annual rents.

Well, in the moment it doesn't really bother me, because she takes the last glass on my tray and I'm able to relax one of my arms for a moment. I make my way back, past the small stage next to the stairs on which in a few minutes some official should give a speech. A Dr. Heinrich or Herbert Schäfer, head of a local security company, if I'm not mistaken.

"Ana!" The pronunciation of my name follows a quick nudge on my shoulder. When I turn around, I look into the face of one of my workmates. Lisa wears her blond hair in a casual knot just as I do, fumbling around with the black tie, that belongs to our work clothes this evening, along with the black boots. "Gosh, this tie is going to strangulate me!"
The tray in one hand I desperately point out to my feet. "Tell me about it. These boots are reshaping my feet."
Lisa giggles as she drags me on the sleeves of my shirt away from the well-dressed crowd.
"Tom asked me to fetch some snacks from the kitchen and bring them down here, but I really need to go to the toilette", she puts on her best little-puppy-look. "Could you...?"
"Yeah, alright. I'll deal with the snacks." I stop her with a wave of my hand, an ironic smile on my lips. "I really don't want to be the one cleaning up your mess otherwise."
"Ha, ha. Funny." Lisa's already disappearing in direction of the toilets, quickly mumbling something that sounds like a 'Thank you'.
Amused I follow her swift steps with my eyes. I knew Lisa for about two years now. She also studies at the University of Stuttgart. But while she's studying to become a teacher, I'm bustling about the engineering for about four terms now. Lisa was also the one informing me about this job here.

I could really use the extra money.

With a frazzled puff I surmount the last stair tread on my way to the kitchen.
I really need to go to the gym more often...
The sound of clashing porcelain flies through the floor as I search for the right door, when suddenly something else captures my attention. Or rather: someone else.
About twenty metres away from me a man stands on the gallery from which you are able to observe the whole lobby.

I furl my eyebrows, doubtingly.

Was he allowed to stand there? Everywhere in the gallery I've seen signs tonight that prohibited the entry and even the stairs that led me here were only open to the staff.

He doesn't look like a member of the security either. Those men always wear Headsets and visible badges.

I stand on the door sill to the Kitchen, hesitating. I really wasn't in the mood to play security guard. Why should I clean up their mess?

The next moment I'm on my way to the man. A tidy house, a tidy mind.

Maybe he just got lost on the way to the toilet. That's what happens to me all the time.

From the lobby a muffling sound follows my steps on the museums-floor. The man on the stage must have started with his speech. When I'm just five metres away from the dark-haired man I finally stop and clear my throat. "Excuse me, may I help you?"

No response.

Maybe he just couldn't hear me. Or wouldn't?

Enforcedly I take another few steps in the direction of the man, who is still mesmerizedly watching the events in the lobby. His black hair brings out the paleness of his skin and ends shortly over his shoulders, on which he wears a green scarf.

I clear my throat again. Louder.

"Excuse me, Sir. I don't think you are allowed to stand here."

The man opposite me seems to notice my presence not until this very moment, turning away from the banister, facing me now. With an arched eyebrow he glances down my whole body before focusing on my eyes again.

I'm weirdly feeling like being in a job interview. Being judged.

"You got lost?" Now that I am standing face to face to that man, his whole appearance seems somehow...out of place to me. His delicate features and the way he's looking...down at me seem utterly disconcerting. I somehow hope he confirms my question.

Instead his mouth shows a devious smile, his icy-blue eyes glittering with amusement.
"Oh...no, my dear. Not at all."

As he gets one step closer, still smiling, I suddenly recognize the bronze walking stick in his right hand. On its top a blue stone glistens in the incoming light. I move backwards. Uneasily.

"But I think, you may be helpful in some way." Without giving me a second to react, he points out the stick in my direction and places it at my throat.

I gasp.

My eyes widen in panic, as I feel like being ripped of my body and sinking into a darkness that seems to overwhelm me with its infinity.

My consciousness dives into a cloud of rage and disappointment, desperately reaching out for the only glimpse of light illuminating the emptiness.

The last thing I am aware of, on conscious, are glittering, icy-blue eyes.