The room the older man led Kaija into was three floors beneath her own.
The further down they went, the colder the mansion seemed to become.
The luxurious carpets disappeared first, replaced by dark wooden flooring worn dull with age. Then the paintings vanished. The chandeliers too. By the time the old man finally stopped walking, the hallway around them looked stripped bare of all the wealth and elegance decorating the upper floors.
The room he opened was emptier still.
No furniture.
No windows.
Only four weak fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, flickering every few seconds like they were on the verge of dying.
The walls were plain concrete painted over in a miserable shade of cream.
Kaija stepped inside slowly, blue eyes sweeping across the barren room.
'Well. This looks like the kind of place people get murdered in.'
"Am I getting downgraded to this room?" she asked dryly.
The old man closed the door behind them with measured calm.
