Chapter 1

— 1 —

Franz stepped into the elevator and pressed the floor button. At that moment, he saw a young man crossing the lobby, heading in this direction while waving a folder urgently in his hand. Franz quickly placed his finger on the door-open button and smiled at the young man, signaling him not to rush.

Contrary to the slightly anxious expression on his face, the young man walked into the elevator with calm, unhurried steps. He returned the smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Franz said. He noticed the young man’s light brown eyes—such a bright and warm color that inexplicably tugged at his heart. He shook his head, released the button, and took a step back.

The two metal doors slid gently toward each other. Just as they were about to close, a hand sporting golden nail polish reached in and forcefully pried open the gap.

The doors opened. A head covered in golden curls poked in, followed by a petite body. It was a young woman who looked no older than twenty, with golden hair, blue eyes, and a charmingly delicate appearance. “S-sorry,” she gasped, out of breath. “I…”

She braced her hands on her knees, panting heavily. The elevator doors closed again. The small metal box carried the three of them upward.

“Mr. Muller?” the young woman asked, slowly straightening up. Her chest was still heaving violently, and a thin layer of moisture shimmered in her beautiful blue eyes.

Franz looked at her in surprise. Before he could react, the young woman took a small step forward, gazing eagerly at the young man leaning against the other side of the elevator.

“That’s me,” said the young man with captivating amber eyes. He wore a slightly puzzled but friendly smile. “Do we know each other?”

“Oh, of course you don’t know me, Mr. Muller,” the young woman said quickly. Her speech suddenly shifted from accented English to flawless High German*. “I’m Mera, Mera Fischer.” She lowered her head and hastily unzipped her bag, rummaging inside.

“This—is this you?” She flipped open a small red suede wallet and held the inner page right up to the young man’s face.

The young man examined the wallet’s inner page, and in an instant, the smile on his lips froze. Franz suddenly felt a strong curiosity, eager to see what was on that red suede page; unfortunately, his vision lacked the power of X-ray vision.

“It’s me,” the young man said slowly. “But… how did you get this?” His tone was full of doubt and confusion.

“Can we talk?” the young woman said eagerly. “If you don’t have anything urgent to attend to…”

“Sorry, I’m on my way to a work meeting…” the young man said.

“I only need a few minutes of your time… or, could you leave me your number?” Mera asked. She sounded almost pleading.

The elevator doors emitted a ‘ding.’

Franz looked up in surprise, double-checked the floor indicator light above, and then firmly pressed the door-open button again. The tightly closed metal doors showed no response.

“What’s wrong?” came the voice of the young man behind him.

“Seems like it’s stuck,” Franz said.

He pressed the door-open button a few more times, then tried the door-close button, the current floor button, and the ground floor button, only to be thoroughly disappointed when the usually busy, lively metal box now lay lifeless and unresponsive no matter how much he fiddled with it.

“Are we trapped?” asked the golden-haired young woman, Mera.

“Looks like it,” Franz said.

“Press the red alarm,” suggested the young man with light brown eyes.

Franz pressed the small red button on the intercom.

After three rings, the intercom crackled, and a man’s loud voice came through: “Hello?”

“The elevator is stuck on the seventh floor. We can’t open the doors,” Franz said succinctly.

“Oh,” the voice said. “Are the lights still on in the elevator?”

“They’re still on.”

“Got it. Please stay calm, everyone, and don’t try to open the doors. I’ll be right there.”

“Hey, hey, how soon is ‘right there’?” Mera shouted.

But no one answered. She pressed the red alarm button forcefully.

“Listen, I’m not deaf,” the voice replied impatiently. “I hope you aren’t either: I’m coming right now.”

The crackling in the intercom abruptly cut off.

The three of them exchanged glances.

“I hope none of us has claustrophobia,” Franz said, trying to sound lighthearted.

“Aside from Hollywood heroines, who gets that?” Mera said. She leaned her back against the elevator’s metal wall and let out a soft sigh. “I just hope that guy’s ‘right now’ is actually right now.”

“Don’t worry,” Franz said. “If he doesn’t show up in five minutes, we’ll call 911.” He pulled out his phone and checked it: “Still got signal.”

The elevator fell silent for a moment.

Mera said in a small voice, “I’m sorry, Mr. Muller, for making you miss your meeting.”

“That’s hardly your fault,” the young man said. He gave her a small smile.

Mera’s smiled back. “Now, do you have time to hear me out?”