The silence in Room 3B was so deep it almost had a pulse.
Clara watched Adrian carefully, his body was still, but his eyes moved fast, like he was watching something no one else could see.
"Adrian?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice came from somewhere far away.
"I remember everything."
Years Earlier – Milan.
Rain fell like shards of glass over the city, turning the streets into a trembling reflection of neon and sirens.
Adrian walked with his hood up, a folder clutched under his arm, exhaustion pressing on him like wet cement.
Three victims. All with the same precise incision behind the neck. All former patients of the same clinic. The Mnemosyne Clinic.
For days he had been following the mental traces of the killer. Inside that man's mind, a labyrinth of screams and red static, he had found one name, repeated over and over like a prayer.
Rinaldi.
The name echoed in his skull until it became more than an obsession. It became a call.
From that moment, he couldn't sleep.
Each night, he heard the same whisper in his mind, a pulse that wasn't his own. And so, following that call, he walked straight into the lion's den.
The secretary greeted him with a polite, practiced smile.
"Good morning. You have an appointment with Doctor Rinaldi?"
"Yes. Adrian M., criminologist. He's expecting me."
Her fingers tapped across the keyboard, then she nodded.
"Second floor, Room 4. Go right ahead."
The hallway smelled of antiseptic and steel.
As Adrian climbed the stairs, every step felt heavier, like the air itself was thick with memory. When he entered the office, the sensation struck him instantly: this wasn't a meeting.
It was a setup.
Behind the desk, Alessandro Rinaldi rose to greet him, a man with a surgeon's smile and a patient's eyes.
"Inspector M.," he said warmly. "What an honor. I've heard quite a bit about you."
Adrian shook his hand.
"I hope not too much."
Rinaldi chuckled softly. "Oh, just enough to intrigue me. I'm fascinated by people with… unusual perception."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Just intuition, Doctor."
"Intuition," Rinaldi repeated, savoring the word. "Some gifts deserve a more honest name."
There was something in the man's voice that made Adrian's spine go rigid.
He looked into Rinaldi's eyes and for a split second, he heard it. A thought, sharp and precise, hidden behind the doctor's calm expression: Finally. He's here.
Adrian flinched. No. It was impossible.
He hadn't told anyone, anyone but Luca.
He forced himself to speak. "The victims were all your former patients. I thought you might help me understand if there's a connection."
Rinaldi nodded slowly.
"Of course. Cooperation with law enforcement is part of our ethics here. You'll have access to all relevant files."
"Thank you."
The doctor tilted his head. "I'm curious, Inspector… how exactly do you get inside a murderer's mind?"
Adrian froze for half a heartbeat.
"I don't get inside," he said. "I just listen."
Rinaldi's smile deepened.
"Listening can be dangerous. Sometimes, when you listen too closely… you start hearing yourself."
That line hit him like a strike to the chest.
For an instant, the air shifted and then Adrian heard it.
A voice that didn't belong to Rinaldi.
A voice from somewhere far beyond the room.
I'm sorry, Adrian.
Luca.
The voice was so clear it made his pulse stutter.
I had no choice. Please, forgive me.
Adrian's breath caught.
He stood abruptly. "Where's Luca?"
Rinaldi raised an eyebrow.
"Luca Ferretti? Ah yes, a former consultant. I see you've met."
Adrian stared at him. The noise in his head grew louder. Two minds, Luca's guilt and Rinaldi's hunger for control, colliding inside his skull.
He'll use you, Adrian. He'll open your mind.
His brain is the key. If I stabilize the neural flow…
Forgive me, please forgive me…
One step closer, and it will be mine.
Adrian's knees buckled. He pressed his hands to his head, a low sound escaping his throat.
Rinaldi didn't move. He watched, fascinated.
"Tell me what you hear," he murmured.
Blood began to drip from Adrian's nose, warm and bright against the floor.
"What… are you… doing to me?" he gasped.
Rinaldi's smile was almost kind.
"Nothing you haven't already allowed."
The world folded inward.
The ceiling rippled, the lights spun into spirals of red and white, and every voice became one single, endless note.
Then — nothing.
⸻
Present Day.
Adrian opened his eyes with a ragged breath.
Sweat ran down his temples.
Clara cupped his face in both hands.
"Adrian! Look at me — what did you see?"
"Everything."
He told her.
Every word, every memory, every sound.
When he finished, she could barely speak.
"So Rinaldi knew about your power… because Luca told him."
Adrian nodded slowly.
"He sold me. For money, for fear — it doesn't matter which."
Clara's voice trembled. "And Rinaldi used the killer to lure you in."
"Yes. I thought I was following a murderer."
He gave a hollow smile. "I was walking into my own hunt."
Clara's eyes filled with tears.
"He tricked you, Adrian. He built a cage and made you walk into it."
"No," Adrian whispered, his voice low, steady.
"He built the cage.
But I was the one who locked the door."