The clock pointed to four in the afternoon.
The imperial capital looked calm, as it always did, but that calm was nothing more than a false mask. At its heart stood the building of the Bureau of Public Investigation, imposing and unyielding. Its ancient stone façade and towering spires gave it the appearance of an old fortress.
Inside, the place was filled with movement, but not the usual liveliness. On the upper floor, far from the noise, in a secluded office, sat the investigator known by the title "The Shadow."
His real name was no secret, yet no one dared to ask him about it. He had no need for brute force or threats to impose his presence. His mere appearance anywhere was enough to plant fear deep in people's hearts.
The rumors surrounding him had neither a beginning nor an end. Some said he knew secrets no one was ever meant to know. Others claimed that every case he handled ended in catastrophe.
But everyone agreed on one thing.
"The Shadow" was no ordinary investigator.
…
He sat behind his old wooden desk, elbows resting on its surface, fingers interlaced before him. His shadow stretched across the wall due to the dim light of an oil lamp, while his dark eyes stared at the scattered papers in front of him without truly seeing them. His mind was elsewhere.
He was nothing like the other investigators. He was not bound by rigid rules, nor did he find any pleasure in the routine cases the others chased after.
Over the past few months, he had been deeply bored. Nothing sparked his interest anymore. Every case assigned to him felt like a child's game. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.
Its hands pointed to half past four. He exhaled, then pulled a silver pocket watch from his coat pocket. He studied it briefly before rubbing his face with a tired hand, muttering in a voice heavy with boredom, "I wish something interesting would appear. Something worth my attention."
The moment he spoke those words, the watch glowed with a golden light.
"Maker of Miracles."
He rose from his chair and approached the large window overlooking the city. He placed his hand on its frame, his fingers touching the cold glass as his eyes surveyed the horizon stretching before him. The glowing lights filling the streets looked like stars drifting across the sky.
Below, carriages moved through the roads, people walked without lifting their heads, and towering buildings stood proudly before him, as if looming over everyone beneath them.
Everything looked normal.
"The Shadow" raised his hand and closed his eyes.
"Let the show begin."
***
I opened my eyes. The last thing I remembered was that strange room, and that strange mirror. But now I was no longer there, nor was I anywhere familiar.
The bed beneath me was sturdier than the tattered one in that strange room, but it was not my old bed either.
"Where am I?"
I got up from the bed and brought my hand to my forehead, trying to comprehend the strange heaviness flooding my head.
It felt like waking up from a deep dream, or rather, to be more precise, a deep nightmare. I forced myself to examine my surroundings. My eyes moved cautiously, scanning the room.
Opposite me was a narrow rectangular window with an ancient stone frame. Its glass was extremely thick and covered in a layer of dust that obscured the outside world.
A heavy dark linen curtain hung from a simple cord, swaying slowly with the cold drafts of air. The furniture was very simple. A small wooden table with a rough surface stood beside a high-backed chair.
Next to the bed was an old wooden chest. Its metal locks were corroded, yet somehow still intact. On the opposite wall hung a mirror with a plain metal frame.
"What is happening here?"
"Was I dreaming just now?"
But that dream, if it even was a dream, felt far too real. I stared at the walls, then at the ceiling, which looked as though it might collapse onto my head at any moment.
"This is not my room. What is this place?"
Something drew me toward the mirror. I walked closer, my reflection gradually becoming clearer. But what I saw in the mirror was not the face I knew. It was another face, familiar in a way that unsettled me, and strange at the same time.
I had messy brown hair, and my facial features were sharp. But what caught my attention the most were the eyes. They were crimson. The scene grew even stranger when I noticed what I was wearing.
I was dressed in a pristine white shirt, topped with a dark brown vest, and a long gray coat draped lightly over my shoulders. This was not my usual clothing.
I had never seen these clothes before, yet they felt oddly familiar. Around my neck hung a silver necklace with a simple design. I hesitantly raised my hand toward the mirror, my fingertips touching the cold glass.
"These features… I have seen them before, in that room."
"What is happening? Could it be that I… could it be that I was transported to another world?"
"No, this is madness." I tried to convince myself, yet deep inside I was certain that I was no longer in my own world.
For some reason, that certainty was incredibly strong.
"What do I do now? Do I leave this room? But where would I even go?"
I heard a knock at the door, and before I could take a single step, a louder sound echoed. The sound of a lock shattering, the door being forced open violently, revealing a man standing in the doorway.
He was of average height, with gray hair falling lightly along the sides of his face. His eyes were blue, like a raging sea. He wore a tall black hat and a black coat that reached his knees, while his leather boots gleamed under the dim light of the room, cast by a single candle on the table.