Paris. A theater bathed in dim golden light. A mysterious play unfolds—abstract, poetic, impossible to grasp fully.

Theodore and Elisabeth Valmont sit side by side, trying to bridge the quiet distance growing between them. What was meant to be a romantic evening becomes a mirror of their confusion, their longing, and the silence that’s crept into their lives.

As they leave, lost in thought and fragile conversation, a well-dressed stranger approaches their café table. He smiles gently, says he’s been in their place before, and leaves behind a black card.

No name. No explanation. Just a golden symbol… and a QR code.

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They arrive early. The table is already set. And then—she walks in.

Elegant, unreadable, and disturbingly composed, Diana introduces herself with a single question: “Are you file numéro 217?” From that moment, nothing feels grounded. Her beauty disarms them. Her poise unsettles them. And then comes the price.

10,000 euros. One fantasy each. No judgment. No room for regret.

But even if they agree, Elisabeth can’t shake the feeling that they’re stepping into something far stranger, and far more dangerous, than they imagined.

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It’s the morning after. Elisabeth returns home, exhausted, glowing, and distant. Theodore sits alone with his coffee, lost in thoughts he can’t share. Their fantasies have been lived… but not spoken. That was the rule.

At work, their lives continue. On the surface, nothing has changed. Beneath it, something is shifting.

They said this would bring them closer. But some distances, once created, echo louder than words.

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