The sun was setting over Kolkata, turning the city into a blur of gold and orange.
Kaizen leaned back in the leather chair of his suite at the hotel, one leg casually crossed over the other.
Lyra sat opposite him, laptop open, coffee steaming beside her.
"Kaizen," she said, raising an eyebrow, "you've been staring at that news feed for ten minutes. Are you going to tell me what you're thinking, or just meditate like some… brooding genius?"
Kaizen smirked, eyes glinting. "Meditation is the first step toward solving a murder. Or maybe I'm just thinking about dinner."
Lyra rolled her eyes but smiled. "I'll believe the first one."
On the table lay photos of Simi Manna and Ahiri Dey, news clippings, sketches, and notes Kaizen had made since the morning.
The connections weren't obvious. But Kaizen didn't panic. He never did.
Instead, he tapped a finger on the table, smiling faintly.
"Notice anything?" he asked Lyra.
She leaned closer. "They were killed… in different parts of the city, different times. No obvious pattern. And the police say it's unrelated."
Kaizen's lips curved into a playful grin. "Police. Hah. That's why we're better at this."
Lyra laughed softly. "You're terrifying sometimes."
Kaizen leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Let's start with the simple things: age, height, hobbies… Ahiri Dey — indie music composer. Simi — student, liked sketches. Nothing obvious. But look here — both had something missing at the end."
Lyra frowned. "Missing?"
Kaizen picked up a pencil and tapped the photo of Ahiri on the table. "Simi didn't have her phone. Ahiri — her diary hints at a stranger with red eyes appearing in dreams. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe someone's playing a very long game."
After hours of drawing, comparing, and joking with Lyra about the absurdity of the world, Kaizen leaned back again.
"Do you know what's fun about being rich and famous?" he asked.
Lyra smirked. "I think I can guess."
"You get the world's answers delivered in coffee. And no one dares question your conclusions."
Lyra laughed. "That explains the smirk. You're evil sometimes, Kaizen."
Kaizen shrugged, still smiling. "No. I'm playful. Evil requires effort. And time. And honestly… I'm too busy drawing."
Around them, the suite glimmered with Kaizen's wealth.
A sleek, private desk where he did his sketches.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
A small library filled with rare art books and limited-edition manga.
And somewhere in the corner, the suitcase filled with cash and awards — trophies for sales, international recognition, and creative achievement.
Kaizen didn't flaunt it. But the world knew: he was twenty-five, a billionaire in creative fame, and untouchable in the world of art and animation.
The night deepened. Lyra stretched, brushing her hair back. "You're thinking again."
Kaizen's grin softened. "Maybe. About Ahiri. About the connections I can't see yet. It's like… a puzzle missing half the pieces."
She leaned closer. "You'll solve it. You always do."
Kaizen's eyes met hers, playful, teasing, but warm. "Of course I will. You know I always win."
She shook her head, smiling. "You really do think you're the smartest person in the room, don't you?"
Kaizen laughed. "Maybe. But that's why I keep the best partner beside me."
Lyra nudged him gently. "Flattery won't get you extra clues."
Kaizen's grin widened. "It might just get me more coffee."
Later, Manajit joined them in the suite, carrying more documents.
"Kaizen, Lyra… you won't believe this," he said, spreading out photos of locations, sketches, and patterns on the floor.
Kaizen bent over, studying each detail. A soft chuckle escaped him.
"See, Manajit? Loopholes everywhere. The psycho killer wants people distracted by randomness. But here… here's the first thread."
Manajit frowned. "The first thread?"
Kaizen's eyes glimmered red faintly for a second — a subtle flicker unnoticed by Lyra or Manajit.
"This," Kaizen said, pointing at the pattern, "is where everything begins."
A playful smile curved his lips, calm and confident.
"Let's see how long it takes them to catch up."