Alexander Tequila

The studio of the "Master of the Game" show was permeated with the smell of expensive coffee and fakery. Sasha Tequila, as usual, sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair. His confidence was almost palpable—he considered himself the master strategist, the "bright" knight who was about to expose everyone.

But his main problem wasn't Oleg, whom he suspected, but Mikhail. Their endless duel for the title of project "alpha" had turned the game into a personal conflict. Sasha constantly found himself thinking that proving his dominance to Mikhail was more important than identifying the real killers.

She sat next to him. Quiet, attentive, with a perpetually understanding gaze. Sasha trusted her implicitly. She was his "safe haven," the only person with whom he could discuss tactics without fear of being stabbed in the back.

"I think Oleg is dark," Sasha leaned toward her, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper. "Too nervous, too fussy. But, to be honest..." He chuckled, looking into her calm eyes, "I want to be made dark already."