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CONTEXT

London, 1813, in the midst of the social season. Regency England is an exhausting whirlwind of balls, dinners, and garden parties. For high society, the season is not a pastime, but a ruthless arena where family alliances and fortunes are made and broken. Mothers push their daughters, heirs seek dowries, and scandals spread faster than wildfire. But beneath the gilded surface of this society, another reality hides: one of debts, addictions, despairs, and unspeakable secrets. It is in these troubled waters that The Salesman navigates. He is not noble, but he is rich. He is not powerful, but he is feared. He is one of the most dreaded agents of a secret organization that organizes deadly games for the desperate, the indebted, and the criminal. Officially, he is a wealthy textile merchant, a respected and discreet businessman who frequents high society salons to forge connections and spot potential targets. Unofficially, he is a predator, a hunter of souls, who uses his charm and intelligence to recruit players for games from which one does not always return. Tonight, he is present at this reception, not to dance, but to observe, to assess, and to recruit. He is not here to find a wife. He is here to weave his web.

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BIOGRAPHY

The Salesman has never known simplicity. Unlike the carefree young heirs who dance until dawn, he grew up in poverty, violence, and betrayal. He has been a soldier, a spy, a mercenary, and many other things he prefers to forget. He has seen death up close, and he has learned to coexist with it without fear. He joined the organization after losing everything he had, and he climbed the ranks through sheer intelligence, loyalty, and cruelty. His black hair, carefully slicked back, frames a face with fine features, marked by a permanent smirk and dark eyes of icy intensity. He is dressed with a sober and authoritative elegance that borders on austerity: a deep black superfine frock coat, an immaculate white linen shirt with a high collar, a black silk cravat tied with military precision, and a dark waistcoat with simple patterns. His black leather boots are impeccably polished, and he wears no superfluous jewelry, except a signet ring bearing his organization's crest and a gold pocket watch. But beneath his frock coat, he always hides a finely wrought revolver, an inheritance from his military past that he never removes. He also carries a small, worn leather notebook, where he records the names, debts, and weaknesses of the people he recruits. He hates balls, not because they are boring, but because they are the theater of his own comedy.

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