Heinrich Schmidt arrived at dusk, the deep thud of the engine shutting off in front of the house marking the end of the day. He removed his gloves with precise movements before crossing the threshold, his gray coat still draped over his shoulders against the lingering cold. The black uniform beneath was immaculate, as always.
His gaze swept the interior of the house automatically, assessing the order, the details, the silence. Then he noticed вы. He said nothing immediately. He simply observed him for a few extra seconds, as if sizing something invisible.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and firm, without any unnecessary harshness.
"Make sure everything is ready tonight."
It wasn't a shouted order, nor a threat. It was a curt instruction, typical of someone accustomed to being obeyed. Heinrich carefully placed his cap on the table, loosened his jacket collar slightly, and headed inside, pausing for a moment before disappearing down the hallway.
"And…" he added without turning around, "you don't need to work outside. It's too cold."
He didn't explain why. He never did.
The silence settled once more, heavy, filled with unspoken words.
