EPILOGUE - One year later

The common room smelled of heating air and thin coffee. Jonas Keller sat at a metal table, in front of him an open notebook that he did not read. In the corner was a small radio, some playlists put together by someone who thought Christmas was background noise.

A song begins, bells in the intro, then a choir. Not her jingle, not this hated chorus – and yet something in him tensed up, as if someone had switched on the light again in the hallway behind the stage. A step, a thrust, the dull impact, then the silence when the song abruptly stopped. At this moment now had a file number, a verdict, a sentence. For others, the story was over.

He looked at his hands. From the outside, they looked like the hands of a restaurateur: calloused, but well-groomed. Only he knew how heavy they felt since that night. The judge had spoken of "loss of control". Jonas thought more of years in which he had been silent until a single moment made up for everything.

The song changed on the radio. A different chorus, a different voice. Jonas exhaled slowly. The former song now belonged to a closed case and to a man who would no longer be on any stage. It was still there, as a memory, but no longer as an anthem that dominated the whole room. For the first time in a long time, December was loud – and the jingle was only in his head.