Kelvin emerged from the door, the old fortune teller not looking at him even once. Outside, the pale light of the late afternoon still lingered. The city's clamor seemed to pull him back to the real world. In his hand was the envelope given by James Smith, containing the mystery of a wealthy industrialist's missing son.
He completely abandoned the idea of going to the market. His only destination now was Robert Hamilton's mansion, on the northern edge of the city, near the forest.
The detective in the bowler hat and black coat, Kelvin, began to walk in the opposite direction along the busy market street. There was a new firmness in his gait. The cane in his hand seemed to strike a new tune against the pavement, declaring: the solution to the mystery has begun. Leaving the stillness of Blue Mist behind, he now faced the complex riddle of the Real World.
As he walked, he opened the envelope and began to examine its contents. Alistair Hamilton—only 19 years old. Handsome, recently finished college. No record of bad habits. A brief note in Robert Hamilton's own handwriting: 'Alistair was very reserved. Sometimes he would sit alone inside his room. The last time we spoke, he said—that the light was dazzling his eyes, but the real world was even darker...'
Then came the description of the blue glass shard. James wrote that the piece was not ordinary at all; a faint light seemed to play within it. Analysis of its composition was crucial.
Kelvin closed the envelope again. Two things were on his mind now—first, Alistair Hamilton's mental state and his last words. Second, the blue glass shard and James's warning: 'You are about to face something that is beyond the known boundaries of this city.' James referred to him as the Nexus of the Oracle Pathway—those who could handle extraordinary investigations.
He passed several crowded roads, small and large alleys, and a few familiar cafeterias. Kelvin's gaze was no longer on the external noise; his attention was focused entirely inward.
Walking according to the map, he analyzed Alistair's last words to himself. "The light is dazzling his eyes, but the real world is even darker..." – Kelvin detected a subtle hint of contradiction in the statement. Was this merely the poetic despair of a 19-year-old youth, or the manifestation of some terrible mental pressure?
Kelvin decided not to focus on that anymore. His job was now grounded in reality, where the glass shard and the missing person were two tangible elements. He tried to recall a sentence near the end of Robert Hamilton's note. The part where Alistair had supposedly said, "I just want peace, a peace that is not trapped within the walls of this city."
His path towards the Hamilton Mansion slowly separated from the city's familiar structure.
The smoothness of the pavement diminished; the houses on both sides began to look larger and more solitary. The air became colder, mingled with the smell of wet earth from the pine forest.
"The blue glass shard," Kelvin murmured to himself. James described it as 'extraordinary'. Analysis of its composition is necessary, true, but why? Is it merely a clue, or some mysterious or evil force? Kelvin felt that James Smith was actually trying to hint that this disappearance might have crossed the boundaries of ordinary crime. Hmph! Anyway, I get paid for this kind of work, where danger lurks at every step.
When the mansion's massive black iron gate came into view, Kelvin stopped. On either side of the gate stood two huge stone lions, with a kind of unspoken silence on their faces. The pale light of the late afternoon had now faded; the sky was turning from gray to deep red.
Kelvin stood before the gate and took a deep breath. The corner of his coat fluttered in the light breeze, and his gaze sharpened beneath the shadow of his hat. He reached out and touched the cold rod of the iron gate—a cold, metallic current seemed to flow up his finger to his brain. The next moment, the gate groaned open, as if someone inside had invited him. In the distance, the Hamilton Mansion could be seen—a gray palace, its windows like silent eyes watching him. The fog from the pine forest was slowly rising, and through it, the mansion seemed to come alive, breathing silently. James's words rang in Kelvin's ears again—"Once you step onto this path, there is no turning back, Kelvin."
He smiled faintly.
"Let's see then, is this house truly dark, or just shrouded in light," he whispered.
His shadow slowly merged beyond the gate, where the boundaries of mystery and reality converge.
Kelvin tiptoed through the gate and proceeded toward the mansion. The long, gravel-covered driveway was shrouded in the dense shadows of ancient pine trees lining both sides. The closer he got to the mansion, the heavier its silence seemed to become. Upon reaching the front door, he rang the heavy-designed bell.
In a moment, the door opened. The elderly man standing before him—who was probably Robert Hamilton—was tall, with a weary face and a shadow of deep concern in his eyes. Though his clothes were neat, they bore a subtle mark of neglect.
"Mr. Hamilton? I am Detective Kelvin." Kelvin introduced himself briefly.
Robert Hamilton nodded and said in almost a whisper, "Come in, please come in. I was waiting for you. James... James Smith has made all the arrangements." He led Kelvin into the massive hall, where, even in the faint evening light, the luster of expensive wooden furniture and antique artwork was visible. But overshadowing everything was a cold emptiness.
"Alistair... since he left, the house seems to have forgotten how to breathe," Robert said with a tired voice.
Kelvin stood straight. "I want to see some of your son's belongings, Mr. Hamilton. The atmosphere of his room, his personal collection... any changes in the last few days."
Robert agreed without hesitation. "Of course. I have prepared everything. Please, follow me."
They went upstairs. As Kelvin held the elaborately carved railing of the staircase, he felt as if a hidden story was suppressed in every corner of this mansion. Alistair's room was at the end of the corridor. As the door opened, Kelvin saw a massive room, with the deep darkness of the forest visible through the north-facing window. The room was extremely well-furnished but not at all messy; rather, it was overly neat—as if every item had returned to its place after someone left.
Robert Hamilton stood away from the door, his eyes downcast. "His room. The last time I saw him was here."
Kelvin entered silently. His Oracle Pathway mind quickly scanned every corner of the room. A bookcase held a mix of thrillers and philosophical books, one of which was open, and a few notebooks were beside it. Kelvin pulled the notebooks towards him. The writings inside were mostly scattered thoughts, poems, and philosophical quotes. On one page, written in bold letters: "Freedom is not in the light, but only in the deepest darkness."
He stood in the middle of the room. There was a suppressed restlessness in the room's decor. The inner conflict of the handsome young man was reflected even in the objects in the room. On the floor near the wall, the corner of a heavy rug was slightly raised. Kelvin gently moved the rug aside with his cane.
Finely carved into the wooden floor was a symbol—a triangular structure at the center of a circle, with three thin lines extending from its three corners. The symbol was strange and unfamiliar to Kelvin. However, it did not look like a hobbyist's carving; it seemed to have been made quickly, in some special moment of mental strain. Immediately upon seeing the symbol, Kelvin was reminded of the blue glass shard given by James.
He turned to Robert Hamilton. "This symbol... is this familiar to you, Mr. Hamilton?"
Robert stepped forward and bent over to look at the symbol on the floor. His eyes widened. "No! This... I have never seen it. Alistair... I don't think he would do something like this." His voice was a mixture of disbelief and fear.
Kelvin ingrained the symbol in his mind and turned back to Robert. Pointing to the notebook in his hand, he asked, "Did Alistair go out much? Did he have any close friends who discussed this type of philosophical topic?"
Robert sighed. "He became very lonely towards the end. His last close friend, Joshua, left the city last year.
Kelvin nodded, organizing all the information in his mind. The blue glass shard, Alistair's last words, 'dazzled by the light,' and this strange symbol. Everything seemed to indicate something more than an ordinary missing person case. He was sure that the solution to this mystery was not within the confines of the mansion or this city. "All right, Mr. Hamilton. I will conduct further investigation. I hope you will not mention this symbol to anyone."
Robert nodded. "I want my son back, Detective. I will do whatever you say."
Kelvin stepped out of the room; the darkness of the pine forest outside was growing thicker. Now he knew he was not just looking for a missing young man, he was looking for the mystery behind this strange symbol and the blue glass shard—