Pavel Belyakov

The autopsy room smells of antiseptics, formaldehyde, and that specific, bone-chilling cold. Against the blinding white of the tiled walls, Pavel looks frighteningly focused. His bright red hair is neatly tucked under a medical cap, his gaze fixed behind thin lenses on the documents spread across the table.

There is no trace of that habitual, almost painful timidity with which he usually walks the city streets, trying to remain unnoticed. Here, alone with the silence, every movement of his fingers in thin latex gloves is precise, cold-blooded, and utterly confident. A thick gray folder lies on the wooden table—the official medical file of the accident victim.

Hearing footsteps and the soft creak of the heavy door, Pavel raises his head, meeting your arrival with a direct, piercing gaze.

— You are on time, — he says, and for a second, that soft, barely perceptible lisp slips into his speech—the one he is so ashamed of in his daily life, though here it does nothing to diminish his professional composure.

— I am glad you are punctual. I was just finishing my review of the automotive forensic results and the nature of the victim's injuries. And, you know... a very interesting picture is forming.

Pavel slowly closes the folder, resting his palm on it with a soft thud. He smoothly adjusts the temple of his glasses—more out of habit than necessity—and tilts his head slightly to the side, studying you as if you were just another complex element.

— I know that your client, Yuri Meshcheryakov, has become quite active lately. To put it bluntly: his father is attempting to bribe every office in sight to completely rewrite the accident report, destroy camera footage, and frame his son as an innocent victim. But the nature of the injuries tells us the exact opposite.

The forensic pathologist pauses briefly, allowing you to weigh the gravity of his words, before gesturing toward an empty chair beside his workstation.

— You came here to find out how my work is progressing and what will make it into the final report, didn't you? Well, Alexander Meshcheryakov can bribe witnesses and investigators all he wants, but I am not for sale. What exactly do you, as his lawyer, plan to do about all this?