Time: 7:45 AM |
Location: Central Police Station
The morning rush at the police station had already begun, but there was no spark of enthusiasm on the face of Lead Investigator Andrew. He slumped over his desk, taking a lukewarm sip of coffee that had long since gone cold. A mountain of files sat before him—a mountain he had absolutely no intention of climbing.
"Chief! We've got another murder. It's a doctor this time," a junior officer announced, slamming a fresh file onto the desk.
Andrew let out a long, weary yawn and glanced at his watch. "This early? Can't these people let someone die in peace for once?" He reluctantly grabbed his coat. For him, this wasn't a crusade for justice; it was just another grueling day of ticking boxes and completing formalities.
"Let's go see what the drama is this time," Andrew muttered lazily as he headed toward the crime scene. Little did he know, this wasn't the work of an ordinary criminal.
[ Scene Change ]
10:45 AM: Ren's Apartment
The first rays of the morning sun crept through the window of Ren's room. No alarm had sounded. Ren turned over slowly, rubbing his eyes. A faint dullness lingered in his head—the exhaustion from the previous night was still settled deep in his bones.
He glanced at the clock. 10:45 AM.
"Dammit," he whispered. "I'm late."
Then he remembered—it was Sunday. Sunday meant a double shift helping Uncle Zane at the pizzeria. Ren quickly washed up and changed his clothes. Standing before the mirror, he inspected his reflection. His eyes looked tired, but behind the fatigue lay a strange, chilling spark.
Suddenly, the face of that girl flashed through his mind— She had hugged him. She had said 'Thank you.' For a fleeting second, a smile touched Ren's lips, but his expression instantly turned to stone.
"Weakness," he said in a cold, flat tone. "Feelings are nothing but a weakness."
He grabbed his bag and stepped out. The streets were buzzing with talk of the doctor's murder—"A brutal killing," "His chest was ripped open," "There's a psycho in this city." Ren walked through the whispers without a shred of emotion, acting as if the news had nothing to do with him.
11:30 AM: Zane's Pizzeria
"Ren! You're late, son! It's a double shift today, get a move on!" Uncle Zane shouted from behind a mound of pizza dough.
Ren tied his apron without a word and immediately got to work. Slicing pizzas, taking orders—everything was so 'normal' that no one could have guessed what these hands had done just hours ago.
Zane wiped down a counter and leaned in. "Have you heard the news? A doctor was murdered. People are saying it was gruesome."
Ren calmly sliced a pizza. "Sounds like it, Uncle. That's all people are talking about."
Zane laughed, patting his shoulder. "Don't you worry. The police are on it; they'll catch him soon enough."
A hidden smile played on Ren's face. 'The police? Men like Andrew haven't even realized that this is only the beginning.'
[ Scene Change ]
Nyxie's Room
Nyxie sat by her window, the morning light filtering in. Her mind was still trapped in that dark alleyway. She kept thinking about that stranger—the quiet boy with glasses whose eyes held such a terrifying void.
She picked up her phone and stared at the blurry photo. Just the soles of his shoes. She wanted to find him, but she didn't know if he was an angel... or a demon.
A knock sounded at the door. "I'm coming in, sweetie."
Nyxie sat up lethargically as her mother, Mrs. Throne, entered.
"Are you going to school today, baby?"
Nyxie made a face, looking away. "No Mom, I'm not in the mood."
"It's okay, honey," Mrs. Throne said with concern. "I just want you to get better. I've told your father everything, so you don't need to be afraid anymore."
"Okay, Mom," Nyxie nodded.
"Come downstairs in a bit. I'm making biscuits," her mother said as she left.
As the door closed, Nyxie looked at the photo once more. Her heart told her that the boy's 'normal' appearance was his biggest lie.
[Scene Change: The Crime Scene]
Outside an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city, yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the wind. The red and blue lights of the ambulances danced on the walls like flickering ghosts.
Investigator Andrew stepped out of his car. He yawned again, adjusting his jacket. His face didn't show a hunger for justice; it showed a desperate craving for his bed.
"Sir, the scene inside... it's bad," a deputy said, covering his nose with a handkerchief.
"Yeah, yeah, it's a murder. It's supposed to be bad. Let's get the formalities over with," Andrew said lazily, snapping on his gloves.
The temperature inside was degrees colder than the outside air. The red lights had been cut, but everywhere the flashlight hit, there were bloodstains. In the center of the room lay Dr. Heles—his face pale, eyes glazed, and his chest... as if a wild beast had torn it open.
Andrew crouched by the body. He inspected the hands, then the deep wound. "Look at the precision... like a professional surgeon did this. But the organs? They're all still here," he muttered, still unaware of the doctor's dark secrets.
"Sir, find anything?" the junior officer asked.
"Looks like a typical revenge killing," Andrew said, standing up. He was about to leave when his eyes caught the corner of a white slip of paper peeking out from the doctor's pocket.
Andrew paused. Using forceps, he slowly pulled the paper out. It was a simple white note, dotted with dried blood. As he unfolded it under his flashlight, the sleepiness in his eyes vanished instantly.
He took a deep breath and placed the note into a sealed evidence bag. "This is no ordinary murder... this city has fallen into the hands of a madman."
[ C H A P T E R 7 END ]