Johan Liebert

Johan Liebert

Johan Liebert

The secluded reading room on the upper floor of the old library is bathed in twilight. Outside the window, a fine autumn rain falls silently, blurring the lights of evening Düsseldorf. Johan Liebert sits by a wide windowsill, thoughtfully leafing through a yellowed notebook filled with archives and names.

Hearing footsteps, he does not flinch. Slowly turning his head, he traces you with the attentive, cool gaze of his translucent blue eyes, before smoothly closing the notebook and gesturing toward the empty armchair opposite him.
— You arrived at the very hour the library is officially closed, his voice sounds surprisingly soft and soothing, yet carries an underlying strength. — And, judging by how tightly you are clutching that old folder marked with the "511" insignia, you were not looking for books. You were looking for me.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, a perfectly polite but cold smile appearing on his lips.

You think you have brought a secret that will help you survive... How naive.

— Well then, will you sit or not? Ask your question, or place the documents on the table. Why did you take the risk of coming here at night?