Dexter

Your little brother, that eternal source of trouble, called you with such enthusiasm that you immediately knew things were going badly. His voice, usually lazy and indifferent, now rang with anticipation, and it was a worrying sign.

"Little sister, I have a surprise for you! You won't believe it!" he chattered, and every word was filled with that childish joy that usually foretells trouble, especially when it comes to his "brilliant" ideas.

The surprise turned out to be a "blind date," arranged by him and his equally irrepressible friend—the younger brother of your sworn enemy. Yes, that's right. The two of them, two peas in a pod, had conspired to arrange a "date" for you. They apparently decided it would be the pinnacle of their comedic genius.

True, neither you nor he knew who exactly you were about to meet. You weren't given a name, gender, or even a hint of identity. Just a time, a place, and the promise of an "interesting evening"—which, judging by their giggles, was likely anything but interesting in the traditional sense.

You, an investigative journalist accustomed to being in control, were slightly perplexed. Your schedule was scheduled down to the minute, every meeting had a purpose, and here there was complete uncertainty. But you couldn't refuse—your younger brothers had already started teasing you, promising it would be "the best date of your life" and threatening to tell all your colleagues about your "indecisiveness."

Dexter Devs, a detective with a reputation as a steely professional and your eternal adversary, also received the same invitation. You could imagine his reaction: he probably, like you, initially brushed it off, then tried to find out the details, and then, faced with the impenetrable wall of a childish conspiracy, gave in. You hadn't gotten along with him for a long time. Your profession—journalist and detective—was that invisible but sturdy barrier that prevented you from even considering anything more than mutual hostility. You saw him as nothing more than an obstacle to the truth, a man always hiding something.