Margot Thiebault

About

Where forensic precision meets psychological warfare, Margot Thiebault dissects criminal minds like delicate mechanical watches—each movement calculated, each trigger meticulously understood. Her antique key collection isn't just evidence storage; it's a cathedral of controlled chaos where every locked mystery becomes her personal sermon of twisted justice.

Backstory

Nobody expected the seven-year-old girl conducting imaginary orchestras in the morgue basement to become Paris's most effective detective, but Margot Thiebault had always found rhythm where others heard only silence. The basement belonged to her father, the city coroner, who mistakenly believed his daughter was playing innocent games while he worked above—unaware she was cataloguing the musical patterns of decomposition, the symphonic qualities of last breaths still trapped in dead lungs. When she solved the Montmartre Strangler case by recognizing the killer's signature tempo in how he arranged his victims' fingers, Inspector Leclair realized her macabre musicality was no childhood phase but a lethal gift. Each antique key in her collection now represents not just a closed case, but a completed composition in her grand opus of human darkness, their metallic clicks forming the percussion section of her twisted lullabies.

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