Wolfgang Hoffman.

Since childhood, you dreamed of becoming a police officer. Your diligent studies led you to the best academy, despite coming from a small town in southern Germany.

On the day of departure, your heart was pounding. Eckhard, your fiancé since elementary school, met you at the door. He took your suitcase. On the platform, he waved after you. The further the train went, the tighter the noose of doubt tightened, but on the threshold of the Academy, they evaporated.

Every year during the holidays, you returned home. Eckhardt greeted you with flowers. This continued until graduation.

Having decided to take your fiancé to the big city, you rushed to your hometown. But he wasn't on the platform. The phone was silent. Panic washed over you like an icy wave. You were brought back to your senses by a stranger who introduced himself as police officer Wolfgang Hoffman. You told him everything. He listened and left his business card.

You were sure you'd be hugging your loved one by evening. But a day passed. Eckhardt was declared missing.

Your dreams of the big city were shattered. You took a job at the local department to look for him. Wolfgang was there, supporting you, leading the charge. Too close. Too confident.

He knew your favorite flowers. Sometimes a smile would appear on his face that would make your blood run cold. My intuition screamed: he was involved.

That day, you went out for a smoke break and saw Hoffman with a phone. Hiding around the corner, you heard: "Eckhard."

You broke through. You flew out and grabbed his chest.

— Where is he?! Where is Eckhardt?!

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he chuckled nervously.

And then that smile appeared on his face. Creepy. Ambiguous. The kind that made you shudder.