Roden's Corner

St. Jacob Straat lies in The Hague like a dim chessboard, its narrow cobblestones flanked by cramped shops and shuttered windows. The street hums with the low murmur of egg and butter merchants, fruit sellers, and a steady flow of weary children whose eyes seem too old for their age. By day, dusty wares—old metal, battered stoves, and heavy household goods—line the pavement, while shadows linger behind unwashed curtains, hinting at lives lived in quiet resignation. A faint, uneasy hush settles over the neighborhood, as if the very air anticipates something unseen.

Into this muted world steps Professor von Holzen, a broad‑shouldered German scholar with a scarred cheek and a habit of smoking thick cigar smoke. Dressed in a buttoned black overcoat and slate‑coloured gloves, he moves with deliberate caution, his eyes scanning the grimy stairwell of No. 15 as if measuring the weight of each step. The encounter with a wizened shopkeeper who cryptically mentions “still alive” and “a fire inside him” suggests a deeper, uneasy purpose that beckons listeners into a tale of hidden motives and looming danger.