~Chapter 3~

In the dim glow of my laboratory, the air was thick with the scent of chemicals and the hum of machinery. Glass vials, tubes, and syringes lay scattered across the workbench, each containing a piece of the puzzle I had meticulously crafted. The virus was my latest masterpiece, a creation born from the depths of my intellect and the shadows of my ambition.
“Have you ever pondered the fragility of life?” I mused, my voice echoing softly in the empty room. “How a single organism, invisible to the naked eye, can bring a city to its knees? This, dear reader, is the essence of power.”
I had studied the great plagues of history, dissecting the secrets of their virulence and spread. The key lay in their simplicity—a few strands of RNA, a host, and the relentless march of infection. I synthesized my virus from the ground up, combining the most potent aspects of past pathogens into a single, devastating weapon. It was a work of art, lethal yet controllable, a tool to reshape the world as I saw fit.
But no great play is complete without its savior. As the city of Petrograd descended into chaos, with citizens falling ill and the government scrambling for answers, I unveiled the cure. A simple injection, crafted with the same precision as the virus itself. The antidote, a beacon of hope amidst the despair, elevated me to the status of a hero.
“Is it not the duty of the wise to guide the ignorant?” I continued, a smile playing on my lips. “To lead them through the darkness and into the light?”
I distributed the cure freely, earning the gratitude of the people and the reluctant admiration of the authorities. The infection rates plummeted, and Petrograd began to heal. I had the city in the palm of my hand, my influence spreading like the virus itself. And with influence came power, a currency more valuable than gold in these uncertain times.
The next day, the façade of heroism was shattered by an unexpected summons to court. Detective Kuznetsov, ever the hound, had his suspicions. He escorted Katya and me to the grand courthouse, his eyes never leaving us.
The courtroom was a cavernous space, filled with the murmur of whispers and the creak of wooden benches. The judge, a stern figure draped in black robes, regarded me with cold scrutiny.
“Mikhail Alexandrovich Petrov,” he intoned, “you stand accused of conspiring to create the very virus you have claimed to cure. These allegations are grave. While evidence is being gathered, you will be placed under constant surveillance.”
A watchlist. Every moment of my life observed, every move scrutinized by Kuznetsov. It was a challenge, a game of wits that I relished.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” I said, my tone respectful, my demeanor calm. “I have nothing to hide. My only aim has been to save lives.”
Kuznetsov’s eyes bored into mine, searching for cracks in the mask I wore. But he would find none. My face was a portrait of sincerity, my words a tapestry of truth woven with lies.
As we left the courthouse, Katya’s small hand gripped mine tightly. “Papa, are we in trouble?”
“No, my dear,” I replied, my voice gentle. “This is just another game. And we will win, we always do.”
Back in the safety of our hideout, I let the mask slip, revealing to you, dear reader, the true depth of my intellect and the darkness of my intentions. The watchlist was no prison; it was an opportunity. Kuznetsov believed he could trap me, but he had only given me a stage to demonstrate my brilliance.
My dear reader, do you see now? The world is a chessboard, and I am its grandmaster. Every piece moves at my command, every outcome shaped by my design.
I gazed at Katya, her innocent face a stark contrast to the web of deceit I had spun. She was my anchor, my reason. In her eyes, I saw the future I was building—a future where I held the reins of power, not through brute force, but through sheer intellect and cunning.
Kuznetsov would watch, but he would see only what I allowed him to see. He would follow the trails I left, each one a distraction, a misdirection. The real game was played in the shadows, where my true nature thrived.
And so, dear reader, the stage is set. The pieces are in motion. Watch closely, for the next move is mine.
As the city of Petrograd slept, I sat in the darkness, a sinister smile on my lips. The game had only just begun, and I intended to win.