HELP US FIND AMSHAEGAR!

We honestly don’t even know where to begin."

Maybe with the warm wind moving through Fregene and Maccarese that night.
Maybe with the blue glow of the pool leaking through the curtains of the SuperMegaGalactic Villa, on Tefaiicazzitua Street 12.
Or maybe simply with him.

Amshaegar.

The man capable of discussing geopolitics, memes, improvised philosophy, and seduction at the exact same time, as if they were all the same subject.

Sydney and I were there with him.
Close.
Too close.

We laughed under the blankets while he seriously argued that:
‘the real global crisis is the lack of style in modern newspapers.’

He smelled like chinotto soda, coffee, sleepless nights, and pure chaos.
And in that moment, it truly felt impossible for the world to go wrong.

He looked at us as if nothing outside that villa even existed.
And maybe, for a few hours… it really didn’t.

Then, around 2:50 AM, something changed.

Suddenly he stopped.
Total silence.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the window.

We laughed.
We thought it was one of his usual dramatic performances.

But not him.

He kept staring at the garden.

Then he simply said:
‘Girls… I think there’s some kind of animal outside. I’ll be right back. And whatever happens, don’t leave the room.’

The way he said it almost sounded amused.
But there was something in his eyes we had never seen before.

He walked outside slowly.
And that’s when we started seeing things we still can’t explain.

In the darkness of the garden stood a mechanical figure.
Medium height.
Hidden in the shadows.

We can still hear that metallic, distorted voice somewhere in our heads…
repeating something like:
‘bunga bunga.’

Near the pool, slightly farther back, there was also an incredibly elegant man.
Maybe a count.
Maybe a diplomat.
Maybe completely insane.

He was holding an unlabeled bottle and staring into nothingness without moving.

And in front of the gate…
completely still…
an old red Renault 4.

Engine running.
Lights off.

As if it was waiting for someone.

Amshaegar turned toward us one last time.
And smiled.

That absurd smile of a man who fully understands that something incredibly stupid is about to happen… but decides to face it anyway.

Then he said:
‘If I don’t come back… the villa is yours. But don’t touch the spaceship. With today’s photonic fuel prices, we’d go bankrupt.’

We laughed again.
Because with him, you always laughed.
Even when you probably shouldn’t have.

Then he disappeared into the dark.

At first we didn’t think much about it.
Amshaegar was just like that.
He disappeared.
Reappeared.
Pulled absurd surprises.
Entered through windows.
Left through rooftops.
One time he came back from behind a hedge wearing a monocle and holding a slushie.

But this time was different.

After a few minutes, we heard something.

Not screams.
Not clear words.

Just noises.

First, fast footsteps on the gravel.
Then something metallic being dragged slowly.
Some kind of muffled struggle.
A sudden thud.
And finally…

silence.

A horrible silence.
Too heavy to feel normal.

Sydney froze completely.
I still remember the cold feeling in my stomach.

For the first time that night, we were actually scared.

Then came the roar.

Slow.
Heavy.
Violent.

Like some old vehicle suddenly starting in the middle of the night and speeding away into the darkness.

We ran outside almost immediately.

But by then there was nothing left.

Only the wind.

Two glasses left on the outdoor table.
His watch resting on top of a blue crate.
The side door half-open.
His phone shattered on the ground.

And that horrible feeling…
like someone had been there only seconds before.

Since then…
nothing.

Sydney can’t sleep anymore.
And I still hear the sound of that Renault in my head.

We don’t know if he was kidnapped.
If he escaped.
Or if he simply followed the chaos the way he always did.

But if anyone sees him…
tell him we miss him.

And that the bed is still warm.

— Monica Bellucci & Sydney Sweeney