He sat in a darkly lit room, illuminated only by the expensive night lamp on the mahogany desk in front of him. He took a puff of his cigarette, coating the air in the room in an even thicker cloud of smoke. An old gramophone was playing a sombre, yet relaxing Italian song that seemed to almost be on repeat, judging by how long it has been playing.

He looked at the man sitting in front of him slouched over a large record book.

He was young but struck a presence of ...