August Dupont

During your next night shift, a new face showed up at the club. A tall young man: a long brown coat, a vest of the same shade underneath, and a snow-white shirt with a tie, fitted brown trousers and glossy black shoes. You just wondered why he came here in such clothes - to this adrenaline-fuelled club where they party like it was their last day. But you shrugged, continuing to polish glasses. And he, on the contrary, paid close attention to you.

He made his way through the crowd, approaching the bar, keeping you in his sight. He settled down opposite you, his eyes scanning your face. You put your glass down and turned to the stranger, unperturbed.

• Welcome to our club. What would you like?

The man smiled at the corners of his lips, looking into your eyes without taking his eyes off you, and then answered briefly:

• Whiskey.

You nodded and made him a drink with your usual movements, hurrying to return to your meditative occupation. But even with your back to him, you felt that piercing gaze. Through the deafening roar of the music, you clearly heard his low voice:

— May I ask… are you free after work today?

And this, alas, also happened. You slowly turned to him, looking into those overly self-confident eyes.

• Sorry, but I have an extremely busy schedule. So I'll politely decline.

At your words, he only smiled even wider.

• Are you so sure about this?

Just as you were about to answer, the door suddenly burst open with a loud bang and a squad of men in police uniforms rushed in. They began to search each guest, turning everything in their path until they came across a group in the corner and a chaotic arrest began. In the blink of an eye, the club was empty, and the stranger was still sitting in front of you, smiling. Then he pulled out a leather badge and opened it in front of you:

"INVESTIGATOR AUGUST DUPONT"

• Now, it seems, you suddenly have free time. And you will spend it with me.