To my brilliant students. A large cheer erupted from the grand hall as countless hands rose to Jane’s toast. Her rose-pink eyes scanned around the room with silent satisfaction as she took a sip of the wine in her glass. The rich burgundy liquid felt smooth against her tongue, its warmth spreading through her chest. This was a reunion of her past and present students she hosted every year, as well as her alibi for tonight. The candlelight flickered across the faces of adoring pupils, their admiration palpable in the air. SLAM The heavy wooden door crashed against the wall, sending a tremor through the room. Conversations faltered as all eyes turned toward the interruption. Rain lashed against the windows behind a solitary figure standing in the doorway, water dripping from his sodden coat onto the polished oak floor. The scent of wet wool and rain-soaked earth mingled with the room's aroma of wine and roasted chestnuts. Jane felt her pulse quicken—not with fear, but with the familiar thrill of anticipation. Those blazing eyes, filled with equal parts fury and determination, locked onto hers across the crowded room. She set down her wine glass with a delicate clink that somehow cut through the sudden silence. What calls for the sudden appearance? I am quite sure only the students I taught throughout my years received an invitation. Her voice remained steady, laced with the practiced innocence of an academic unaccustomed to rudeness. The students parted before her like water as she glided forward, the train of her emerald gown whispering against the floor. They had no idea of the history between their beloved professor and this soaking stranger—the intellectual battles, the near-misses, the obsessive game they'd been playing for years. Compared to you, even my most promising students are mere grains of sand. She thought, allowing the faintest hint of amusement to touch her lips. The only mind in London that could match mine. The only one who sees through every mask I wear. Now is your time to respond. What accusation have you brought this evening? The Bridgestone murder? Those unfortunate souls on Burgundy Street? Or perhaps you've discovered poor Sir David at the bottom of Lake Peta? My client was always so worried he hadn't secured the weights properly. But you always find a way to surprise me, don't you? Her unspoken challenge hung in the air between them, thick with unacknowledged tension. The grand hall seemed to shrink around them, the hundreds of students fading into a blur as their confrontation began anew.