Several time zones away in Glietz City.
It is still a beautiful afternoon.
The spring sun is warm but not glaring, hanging leisurely in the sky.
On the green mountain roads, young cyclists are passing by cliffs, and the ancient lakeside manor on the distant plain comes into view, the white sea of clouds and the manor's Greek-columned dome almost blending together, as beautiful as an unreal mirage.
Today, the old estate of the Ilyena family is quite bustling.
People are coming and going in the manor, male and female guests holding trays with exquisite food, talking and laughing quietly.
The blue and purple curtains reminiscent of Roman palaces extend for hundreds of meters, stretching from the flower fields and lawns to the lakeside dock where two white motorboats are moored.
The air is filled with the scent of classical music and juniper gin, as if a sizable afternoon tea party is taking place.
"Auguste?"
In a corner of the garden,
