His gaze lingered on the coins, then on the letter, before finally resting on my face.
It was a look that betrayed determination—and something else, too: something dark and mysterious that
made Sofia’s coin feel like a cold burn against my skin. "Sarah," he said in a deep, rough voice,
"it is no coincidence that we met and that all three coins are united here now. I need to make a call.
Get something to eat and rest."

He gestured toward the second, untouched tray Stefanie had brought in.
Without a word, he walked toward a door I hadn’t noticed before.
It opened and closed silently behind him, leaving me completely alone.

I sank back into the soft pillows; exhaustion hit me like a physical blow.
My thoughts were racing once again—the efficiency with which he had saved my life twice was impressive.
The coins gleamed accusingly on the table. Sofia, Anja, Tanja. Sisters, sacrificed.
My fingers traced the raised numeral "III" on Sofia’s coin—cold metal against my trembling skin.

Would Egon save me a third time? The silence weighed heavily and oppressively upon me. Outside, the wind howled. My gaze wandered to the untouched tray. The ham glistened, fatty and pink. Suddenly, the honey-sweet aroma became unsettlingly familiar—like the smell of roasted meat. Like in the tavern kitchen, where hooks hung from the ceiling, dripping with reddish fluid. I thought of Stefanie’s panicked scream as she had burst naked into the dining room.

I shoved the tray away violently; the cutlery clattered. The coins on the table suddenly shimmered a bright blue. All at once—like a flash of lightning in my mind—I pictured Stefanie on one of those serving platters. Stefanie, deliciously roasted, just for me. And the next moment, I was naked. My fingers wandered between my legs; I was damp—no, soaking wet. There it was: that dark passion. The passion I had been warned about, but now, I didn't care.