His bedroom was on the second floor.
The villa, though large, suited his preference for solitude; he disliked disturbances. Aside from the scheduled visits by cleaning staff and gardeners to tidy up and tend to the lawn, the villa remained empty the rest of the time.
Just as he pushed open the door to the second floor, an innate alertness made Lucas's hand freeze, "Who's there? Show yourself, now." In the midst of speaking, the figure, initially unsteady, adopted a standard defensive stance ready for attack or defense.
A clap echoed in the darkness.
Yigol Foster held a cigar in his mouth, clapping as he walked towards the window.
Moonlight streamed through the curtains, allowing the vague shapes in the room to become distinctly visible.
Lucas's expression changed, "Yigol Foster! What are you doing in my house?"
Yigol Foster leisurely removed the cigar, pressing it against the windowsill. Instead of answering, he retorted, "What do you think?"
