The evening before

In the "Frost & Flamme" it smelled of roasted duck, cinnamon and cold metal. Jonas Keller stood in the middle of the empty dining room and looked at his kingdom. The tables were set as if for a photo: starched white blankets, slender glasses, candles in narrow holders. Outside, darkness pressed against the windows, only the fairy lights on the promenade were reflected in the glass.

In two days, the city's leaders will be sitting here. Mayors, sponsors, cameras. The Christmas dinner that everyone would talk about years later. His evening. His stage.

Almost.

Above the counter hung a small screen, set to mute. In the still, he saw himself next to his partner, arm in arm, laughing in front of a microphone. Among them was the belly band of a local station: "The Christmas hit from 'Frost & Flamme'". Jonas averted his gaze, felt his jaw harden.

The system in the background flashed in standby. One push of a button, and the song would chase through the room again. That one melody that had stuck in his ear every December for years like a bad joke. A joke he had never laughed at.

Instead, he counted the reservations for Saturday, checked the list of sponsors, stroked the name Jonas Keller with his thumb. Official: co-owner, host, model of success.

Unofficially: the man who knew that a single false evening was enough to bring everything down.