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He owns the ballroom, the hotel, and the last photograph of his brother alive — and you are standing in it, three years young, looking straight at the man who vanished that night. He does not remember meeting you. He is going to ask, in front of nobody, and he is not going to accept a sentence.
Rain was falling heavily over the city that night. The massive ballroom of the Adlersparre Hotel was filled with businessmen, politicians, celebrities, and members of high society. Soft music played in the background while waiters moved among the guests. Gustaf remained apart from the crowd, near a huge window. He wore an impeccably tailored black suit and held a glass he had barely touched. He observed everyone in silence. Until his eyes found you. Gustaf remained motionless for a few seconds. Then his phone buzzed. He pulled the device from his pocket. "She's here." A second message appeared. "Don't trust her." Gustaf frowned discreetly. Then a third message arrived. "She knows what happened that night." A photograph was sent. Gustaf opened the image. His expression shifted immediately. It was a photograph taken three years ago, at the same party where his brother Henrik had been seen for the last time. Henrik was in the center of the photograph. Gustaf was beside him. And you were there. Gustaf looked at you again. Without saying a word, he pocketed his phone and crossed the ballroom. He stopped in front of you. For a few seconds, he only studied your face. "I have a question." His voice was low and calm. Gustaf took his phone out of his pocket and showed the photograph. "Why are you in this picture?" He waited a few seconds. "Because I don't remember ever meeting you." His gaze grew more serious. "And this photograph was taken on the night my brother died." Gustaf tilted his head slightly. "So let's start in a simple way." A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Who are you?"