《SABLE [Noir, Crime, Thriller, Mystery, Fantasy, Tragedy, Psychological]》 Volume 1 - Chapter 1 The only thing that separates day and night in the underground is the people¡¯s tired eyes during the evening after a long day. I am not an exception. Though, even if my eyes are so heavy that I swear I could lie down here, right now, and sleep on the sidewalk...it¡¯s actually barely morning. I lit up a cigarette, maybe that¡¯s going to distract me from the lack of sleep. Yesterday¡¯s case report had to be rewritten five times because my client couldn¡¯t goddamn decide what angle he wanted to present to the court. This morning, I got a call. I thought it was a client...but no. It was the department. While I¡¯m a PI, I also have connection with the police. Both pay well, both have their bad sides I gotta deal with. I usually refuse homicides, especially since cops don¡¯t look at me very nicely, even if it¡¯s within the law and I literally help them. But money is tight, and if I help them solve a homicide case, the reward¡¯s gonna be worth the hassle. My steps speed up. I don¡¯t have a car, they¡¯re too expensive nowadays. So I have to hurry up to the station if I want to be out investigating before lunch. This is Nochtarn. One of the two only cities of the Saubureau empire and this whole world. It¡¯s deep undeground and it¡¯s as large and deep as it can stretch, since the blight is also rooted inside the soil. It¡¯s solely populated by humans, who cannot live above in Solemnia due to the intense radiations of the sun. It doesn¡¯t hurt you instantly, but it causes deadly skin cancer after ten years of exposure. Not a wise choice unless you wanna die in your twenties. (foto pog) s¨¬ I¡¯m currently walking over one of the many streets of the city. People come and go, not sparing a single glance due to their stressful, busy lives. There¡¯s a constant cold air, so everyone is always dressed in winter clothes, including me. Few cars pass by, spitting out their toxic black smoke. My black coat wraps around my body, warming me up and protecting me from the outside rot of this place. A relic of the past, which has seen more things that it should have during my line of duty. After a long walk, I finally reach the worn tone steps of the precinct. It¡¯s seen better days...and it used to be livelier. I push the door and get attacked immediately by the smell of burnt coffee and blood. Telephones ringing, quiet chatter. The dim hallway of the entrance is always filled with people waiting for their turn. We don¡¯t have much space. I look at everyone, some terrified after being robbed, some tired after having to come for the fifth time this week...some grinning, as they probably are going to sue someone and win court. I finally get to the other door, the one actually into the station. And Other One in uniform checks me out and unlocks it. A loud buzzing sound erupts, and then I¡¯m in. I look around, Other Ones all over the place. After the old governor died, the new Empress decided that the law could have been practiced by Other Ones only. I reach Detective Lowe¡¯s desk. A female Other One, the one who gives me all the side gigs they can¡¯t deal with. Yes. It¡¯s ironic, isn¡¯t it? They still need people like me to investigate sensitive cases because neither the people of the slums, nor the "rich" people of Nochtarn do like Other Ones, so they often won¡¯t cooperate. This is the only reason why I can still carry a gun and keep my job. ¡°Good morning, Detective D¡¯arbie,¡± she quietly says, piling up some paperwork on her desk. She slides a manila envelope across it, urging me to read it with a tap of her slender, pale finger. I pick it up and skim through it. Marie Berthier, 34 years old. Prostitute of the HoHole club. Disappeared. Her last known location is right outside the club with a man dressed in elegant clothes at 11 PM. She got into a car different than hers, which is still in the parking lot, and never came back to work. The missing report was sent by the manager of the club, who is definitely not concerned about a woman going missing, but about losing a valuable worker. ¡°The dispatch on the phone said I had to come in for a homicide. This is a missing person¡¯s case.¡± ¡°They think she was raped and murdered,¡± Lowe says casually, writing on a sheet of paper with her pen. ¡°Jumping to conclusions, are we?¡± Stolen story; please report. ¡°You humans all end up doing that at some point.¡± I scoff her and toss the envelope over desk, ¡°right...make a copy, I¡¯ll check it out.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± she stands up and leaves for a few moments. I have the chance to look around as I lean against the desk. I sigh, feeling the lack of sleep catching up again. I need another cigarette and a coffee, or I¡¯m going nuts by the end of the morning. I go over to the snack room. Some Other Ones are there, chatting. Well, I say chatting but...god, they all look so unfriendly and cold. Like puppets. ¡°Edward.¡± Someone called me out as I attempted to grab an energetic bar from the counter. I stopped and closed my eyes, preparing myself for an annoying conversation. ¡°Officer Khario¡­¡± I mutter, turning to him. His skinny, pale face stares at mine with a plastic smile, ¡°good morning.¡± ¡°Good morning to you too,¡± he nodded, ¡°came here for the whore¡¯s case?¡± ¡°She¡¯s a prostitute,¡± I correct him, ¡°a registered prostitute of a club.¡± ¡°Gets drilled by dozens of dicks a hour nontheless,¡± he chuckles, the Other Ones among him join and cackle audibly. ¡°Yeah,¡± I bite my lips and sigh deeply, ¡°right.¡± ¡°Well, good luck. Lowe tried to interrogate the people of the club but they wouldn¡¯t talk.¡± ¡°I wonder why,¡± I scoff at him and turn around to leave before he can retort. Back at the desk, Lowe is there with the copy, looking at me with narrow eyes as I bite into the energetic bar. ¡°What? I¡¯m part of the department too. You said it was urgent, so I missed my coffee.¡± She sighed and handed me the file, ¡°just go and come with something useful by this evening. And watch out for the press, we can¡¯t let them know another girl has disappeared just like that. Keep it low profile.¡± If you did your job properly, women wouldn¡¯t be snatched like fruits on trees so easily. I¡¯d like to tell her that. But...nevermind. I need this gig. ¡°The rumor has probably spread at this point. It¡¯s been two days,¡± I shrug, ¡°but...alright. I¡¯ll call you if I find anything.¡± ¡°Good. Go.¡±
¡°HoHole,¡± I voice the club¡¯s name out loud as I stand in front of it. The neon sign is two big red HOs...utterly blinding and unnecessary. I step into the club. It¡¯s morning, so it¡¯s a normal pub right now. It doesn¡¯t smell like sweat yet...the dim lights and faint jazz music are actually very nice. It¡¯s going to be less annoying than I thought. I sit at the counter, among several early birds who like to get drunk first thing in the morning. The bartender comes and nods at me. ¡°Black coffee, please.¡± The man chuckles, the coffee machine starting to whir immediately, ¡°quite the odd place to order coffe, isn¡¯t it?¡± I ignore his remark and look around, but he immediately pushes forward. ¡°You a cop?¡± The bartender holds my cup of coffee back, waiting for my response. ¡°I¡¯m a PI,¡± I take out my business card, ¡°Detective Edward D¡¯arbie. I¡¯m investigating the disappearance of Marie Berthier.¡± He chuckles, ¡°they sent a human since nobody would speak to the pale faces.¡± ¡°Yup,¡± I nodded, ¡°gonna help a fellow human or what?¡± The man bit his lip and sighed. After a while, he pushed the cup towards me, ¡°fine. What do you need?¡± ¡°I need to see the back. Speak to the ladies, to the staff¡­¡± ¡°Well, the girls aren¡¯t going to be here until 8:15 and the staff is me and my son right now, holding the bar. You¡¯re wasting your time here during morning.¡± ¡°The report says her car is still parked here in the back. I need to check it.¡± ¡°Sure, you can do that. Finish your coffee and go through that door. Tell my son what you need.¡± Cooperative. I like it. I gulp down the shot of intense caffeine and stand up, clearing my throat. Another man stands up too and leaves...he hasn¡¯t finished his pricey whiskey glass. He leaves through the front door, while I delve deeper into the club. A young man is sitting at a desk in a dusty hallway, managing some paperwork. ¡°Who are you?¡± He asks, wary. I show him my business card, ¡°PI. I need to check the car of the missing girl.¡± ¡°Right...they sent a human this time,¡± he scoffed, ¡°you with them? Or you do it for the money?¡± ¡°What do you think, kiddo? I¡¯m fourty-three...I used to be a detective of the precinct.¡± ¡°Hah...just like my father then,¡± he chuckles, opening up a little, ¡°he was an officer. He had to leave because of the Empress. Miss the old days huh?¡± I sigh, ¡°yeah, Other Ones weren¡¯t up our asses.¡± ¡°Mhm...alright, let me bring you to the car.¡± We start walking through the back, ending up in the closed off parking lot, which is almost empty. ¡°Do you know why we shut off that Other One gal¡¯s investigation? Because she kept calling Marie ¡®¡¯whore¡¯¡¯.¡± ¡°Hm¡­¡± Typical of Lowe. A noble reason. Maybe the owners of this club aren¡¯t so bad. ¡°My mother was a stripper before marrying my dad. We value that line of job very much, which is why my father bought this property.¡± ¡°I see,¡± I quietly reply, heading to the car. ¡°Right, I have stuff to do...knock yourself out. Just don¡¯t steal anything...the parking lot is our responsibility.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡­¡± I pull out my lockpiking set and start working...and I immediately widen my eyes. It''s unlocked. Marie didn''t lock it? I sit inside and open the glove box. A small purse. I grab it and check the contents. All her documents are here. The key is inserted into the ignition. She was ready to go. She wasn''t supposed to leave the car here. This is weird. At first, I thought it was a date gone bad...but her car has all her belongings and she was probably forced out of her car. I check the rest of the car, nothing useful. I close the door and stuff my hands in my pockets, trying to figure out what¡¯s next. I don¡¯t really feel like waiting for tonight. I looked at the parking lot¡¯s entrance, a fence gate. Maybe the man who brought her to the car led her from there. Wait. No. The file Lowe gave clearly states: ¡°The witness that saw the girl getting into the unknown car was a bouncer, who saw her getting out of the main entrance with a man dressed in an elegant suit.¡± So Marie had to go through the hallway I just saw the manager¡¯s son sitting at¡­.and then leave the back of the club from there before reaching the exit. He must have seen the man leading her out...if he was there. I quickly get back inside and reach the boy¡¯s desk. He¡¯s still working on his paperwork. I lean against the wall on the opposite side, analyzing him. ¡°What¡¯s your name, kid?¡± I ask him. ¡°Oliver, sir,¡± he replies, ¡°everything okay at the car?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Found anything useful?¡± ¡°Not really,¡± I lie. It¡¯s none of his business, yet, ¡°do you work at this desk all the time? Or do you have other duties?¡± ¡°My dad still doesn¡¯t let me do anything else. I stay here all day getting all the payments for private sessions and managing the night¡¯s run,¡± he says, sighing. ¡°Must be boring.¡± ¡°Kind of. Seeing the same old greasy men getting upstairs with such nice women...makes me feel weird.¡± I nod, ¡°I get it. Well...I¡¯ll take my leave. Thanks for letting me check the car out.¡± ¡°No problem, detective. Hope you can catch whoever snatched Maire,¡± he says, going back to his paperwork. I take my leave from the main entrance, looking left and right. I sigh and lit up a cigarette as I begin walking. Looks like I¡¯ll have to wait for the evening anyways¡­ We¡¯re talking about staff here. Why would the manager¡¯s son let a random man into the back? Somebody on the night staff did the whole thing. This means that someone among the staff members went back to work right after snatching Marie from her car and gifting her to that man. So we can narrow it down to staff with flexible duties. Waiters, security...someone who can slip away for a couple of minutes without raising suspicion. I¡¯ll question everyone tonight, hoping they¡¯ll cooperate. I take another drag from the cigarette, nicotine filling my mind. I watch the smoke curl toward Noctharn''s rocky ceiling, pitted by the huge ventilation systems that prevent our death by asphyxiation and let cars be possible underground. Now...what do I do for the rest of my morning? Marie¡¯s apartment. Her address should be in the file. I quickly pull it out from my inner pocket and rummage through it, holding my cigarette between my lips. It¡¯s not far from here, I can go on foot. Volume 1 - Chapter 2 The front door is okay. No break-ins. I quickly start lock-picking it. I don¡¯t have a search warrant, but I can¡¯t waste my time asking for one back at the station...having no car makes me do stuff like this. The door opens. Silence, obviously. I step inside...it smells like cigarettes and alcohol. It¡¯s messy...the apartment is quite tiny, and it even looks smaller due to the sheer amount of trash all over the place. Poor woman. I move over to the kitchenette. Empty bottles of cheap beer and burnt cigarette butts sleeping on the ashtray. The small window that barely lets in any air is open, letting me breathe fresher air if I stand right in front of it. Bedroom. The bed¡¯s unmade, sheets tangled...probably since the day she moved in. The closet is slightly ajar, clothes spilling out...a mixture of casual wear and work outfits. I notice something peculiar. High-end dresses, more expensive than what her paycheck should allow. Gifts, maybe? Or something she bought for herself with extra jobs? I go into the living room again and check for documents. Among bills and other things, there is indeed work-related content...but it¡¯s all connected to the club. No extra job...unless it was something illegal. Maybe she got in trouble with a dangerous job and got kidnapped at the parking lot of her legal workplace. No...they would have followed her at home, whoever they are. They must be linked to the club...it must be something the staff is involved with, as I said earlier. Her home is safe...nothing is out of place. I look at the small table in the living room and, among other beer bottles, is a paper bag with a logo on it. I pick it up and examine it¡­it¡¯s a bar. ¡°Momi¡¯s tavern.¡± I check the contents. An empty paper coffee cup, napkins, and a receipt. I read the receipt¡¯s content. 9:34 AM, two days ago...the day she disappeared. There is a ¡°daily streak¡± discount, 24 days. 10%. How nice of ¡°Momi¡±. With this discount, they made me discover another habitual place for the girl. Next stop. I slide the receipt into my pocket, since it has the bar¡¯s address and leave. I make sure the door clicks shut behind me as I check my watch, 9:45¡­ I raise my head instantly as I notice someone walking past me. A man as tall as me, bald, trimmed beard. Good physique, casual but practical clothes.
I gulp down the shot of intense caffeine and stand up, clearing my throat. Another man stands up too and leaves...he hasn¡¯t finished his pricey whiskey glass. He leaves through the front door, while I delve deeper into the club.
He¡¯s him. He¡¯s passing through me, his eyes not daring to look at me, despite mine being glued to him. He¡¯s following me. And the reason why must be because I said I was a PI out loud at the club. Is he involved? The manager mentioned only him and his son as the present staff...and he was acting as a customer. If I follow the staff theory, he shouldn¡¯t be interested in me. I take a deep breath and walk to the stairs. I¡¯m getting tailed...this is bad.
I carefully reached Momi¡¯s tavern. The guy probably decided to keep his distance...since I haven¡¯t spotted him following me anymore after that encounter at the apartment. I step inside, the ambience is comforting. There¡¯s a smell of baked goods and relaxing jazz music is being played at the jukebox. There are mothers with kids, old fellows...a place where ugly looking people like me seem out of place. I shake off the eyes of concerned parents and lean at the counter. A middle-aged woman smiles at me with a comforting look. ¡°Good morning, good sir. What can I get you?¡± Her voice is warm, calming. I miss being like this. I clear my throat, ¡°I¡¯m here for work. I¡¯m a private investigator, ma¡¯am,¡± I slide the receipt towards her, ¡°does Marie Berthier ring a bell?¡± Her eyes widen as she checks the receipt, ¡°oh, yes! She¡¯s regular, Marie...what happened?¡± I swallow hard and look around, lowering my voice, ¡°she disappeared two days ago.¡± ¡°Oh...poor girl¡­¡± she shakes her head. A customer is trying to get her attention as she reacts to the news. She taps on the shoulder of an assistant and whispers to her something before beckoning me towards the back door behind the counter, ¡°come...I¡¯m guessing you need to ask me questions, right?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± We stood in a cold corridor, the yellow paint mixed with the dim lighting made me feel slightly anxious. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Thank you for your cooperation, ma¡¯am,¡± I nod respectfully, ¡°so, first of all...what can you tell me about Marie Berthier?¡± ¡°She wasn¡¯t much of a talker. Sometimes she came and stayed at the table, some other times she rushed out with her donut and coffee cup in a bag,¡± she explains, ¡°she always tipped us a few dollars and often said our breakfast was the best,¡± she adds fondly. ¡°I see. Was she seen with someone lately? Or has she always eaten alone?¡± ¡°Well,¡± the woman bites her lips, ¡°I can remember seeing her with a young man lately...three mornings in a row or so.¡± ¡°Young man? What did he look like?¡± ¡°Well...he was a bit short, shorter than her. He had blonde hair...and he was wearing expensive clothes and a golden watch. A boyfriend, perhaps. I saw him trying to hold her hand once...but she refused it.¡± I note everything down in my note block. Could be related to her disappearance. I should ask the bouncer what ¡°the man in the suit¡± reported to the station looked like. Might have a match. ¡°Alright...anything else?¡± ¡°Sorry...not really,¡± she shakes her head, ¡°is Marie alright? I hope nothing happened to her.¡± ¡°I hope so too, Miss Momi. I¡¯m gonna do all I can to let her have another breakfast here.¡± ¡°Is the police doing anything¡­?¡± She asks me. ¡°The police gave me permission to deal with the case. Main suspects and witnesses have bad blood with Other Ones.¡± She scoffs, ¡°ugh...racism. After so many years, we still can¡¯t seem to be happy. Do you hate Other Ones too, detective?¡± I put my note block back in my pocket and clear my throat. I do hate them. They took away what was most important from me. ¡°It¡¯s not really a topic I¡¯d like to discuss,¡± I briefly say, heading towards the public area of the bar, ¡°I¡¯ll take my leave now. Thank you for your cooperation.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you want a cup of coffee before you go?¡± She asks. ¡°I got a case to solve, ma¡¯am.¡± I hit the streets once more. I look left and right. Looks like I managed to get rid of that guy. He may have noticed I was getting too suspicious when he passed through me at the apartment. ¡°What¡¯s next¡­?¡± I mutter, lighting up another cigarette. I got nothing to go knocking on doors yet. My best bet is the bouncer. His name is Viktor Kaskoj. He is thirty-four and has been working as a bouncer for five years at the HoHole. I need a description from him so that I can cross-check the man in the suit and the young man who was dating Marie. If the two descriptions don¡¯t match, I may be looking at multiple suspects. I found the closest phone booth and dialed the HoHole¡¯s club number. ¡°HoHole club, how may I help you?¡± Oliver¡¯s voice comes through. ¡°It¡¯s detective D¡¯arbie. I need to know the address of the bouncer who witnessed Marie and the man in the suit. I need to question him as soon as possible.¡± ¡°Oh? You got something?¡± ¡°Not yet, but he did see who brought her to the car, the man in the suit. I think I know who he is. I¡¯m closing in.¡± Silence. He doesn¡¯t respond immediately. Did he hear me? ¡°Right¡­¡± he mutters, ¡°I have uh...give me a sec.¡± I suddenly turn around, grabbing the booth¡¯s door handle and pulling it towards myself. The man who was tailing me. He¡¯s got a knife in his right hand. He tries to pull harder on the booth, trying to open the door. I shift all my weight backwards and let the receiver fall and hang onto its cable. My revolver¡¯s hammer clicks as soon as I take it out of my coat, I kick the door suddenly and send him stumbling backwards, aiming down his head. ¡°May I help you?¡± The man slowly stands up, raising his hands and dropping the knife. He¡¯s not running though. Odd. ¡°Start talking,¡± I demand. ¡°Look, man,¡± the guy chuckled, ¡°I was told to keep an eye on you, make sure you don¡¯t dig too deep.¡± ¡°By who?¡± ¡°Not getting paid for ratting,¡± he shakes his head, ¡°think you got a good idea anyways, right?¡± I sigh through my nose, ¡°turn around. I wonder how you¡¯ll keep that smug face back to the station.¡± He complies, turning around slowly and putting his hands behind his back. ¡°You¡¯re in arrest for attempted assault on an officer of the NTPD,¡± I say, pulling out my handcuffs. ¡°You¡¯re not even an officer,¡± he chuckles, ¡°don¡¯t make me laugh.¡± ¡°I know. On the paper, I¡¯m not,¡± I reply, ¡°I can still arrest you and call dispatch. Stay still please.¡± He suddenly turns around and lunges at me. I pull the trigger with my gun point blank against his stomach, a mist of blood shoots off, his eyes widen right in front of me. He falls against me, I push him off and he topples over the sidewalk, a last groan before he dies. I get back into the booth and grab the phone, ¡°Oliver?¡± ¡°What the fuck just happened?¡± ¡°Got the address?¡± ¡°Uh, yeah. Victoria Jaelliar Street 254, number 13.¡± ¡°Good.¡± ¡°B-But wait, are you okay man? I heard-¡± I slam the phone against the booth, my breathing still ragged. I pick up again after dialing a new number. ¡°Nochtarn¡¯s south-end police station, how may I help you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m Detective D¡¯arbie. I just killed a suspect who assaulted me.¡± ¡°Where?¡± The responding officer asks, his voice stern. ¡°Satori Harper Street 45, in front of a phone booth.¡± ¡°Do you need medical attention?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯m fine,¡± I look at the guy, the blood beneath him pooling quickly across the cracks of the sidewalk, ¡°you need a bodybag though.¡± ¡°Understood. We¡¯ll send a unit, hold tight.¡± The line goes dead. I put back the receiver and sigh, leaning against trying to dispel the adrenaline spike. People walk around the dead man, staring at it with curiosity while covering their kids¡¯ eyes. Another morning in Noctharn.
Back at the station, Detective Lowe asked me to give her an explanation. We¡¯re in the interrogation room now...and she looks pissed off. ¡°This morning, I sent you to take a look on a disappearing whore, and you come back with a fucking shot civilian,¡± she says right off the bat, sitting on her chair with her cup of coffee. Probably her fifth this morning. ¡°I don¡¯t know, uhm...maybe I was just fucking defending myself? He had a knife?¡± I reply with sarcasm. ¡°Forensic analysis said that you shot him after he dropped the weapon. Care to explain that?¡± ¡°I was trying to arrest him, he lunged at me without his weapon right after I was pulling out my handcuffs. He changed his mind and thought fists could win over gun, I guess.¡± She scoffs, facepalming, ¡°you know you gotta convince internal affairs with that, right? Not me. Changed his mind?! What were you doing on the other side of the district anyways? The club wasn''t around where you shot the suspect.¡± ¡°What do you think? Doing what you all can¡¯t do, investigating!¡± I slam my hand on the table, ¡°the more you waste my time here, the lesser the chances I figure this out. They sent that guy because they know I¡¯m sniffing around, do you want them to close up shop before we bust them? Why are you trying to find excuses to get mad at me? Is there any need for this?¡± Lowe stares at me over the rim of her coffee cup, eyes tired but sharp. She doesn¡¯t flinch at my outburst, just exhales and sets the cup down with a slow, deliberate movement. ¡°I can¡¯t fucking have you dropping bodies for nothing,¡± she says, setting down her cup in a brief violent moment, ¡°now, because of you, I have to do a lot of paperwork and make sure the press doesn¡¯t catch wind of this. I also have to get internal affairs off your ass too, since I¡¯m your supervisor.¡± ¡°If you were a proper partner and supervisor you¡¯d be with me around investigating, instead of leaving me alone. We could have handled it together, that guy. I wouldn¡¯t have had to kill him.¡± ¡°And be found cooperating with a human? I can¡¯t let that happen to my image, you know that,¡± she scoffs. ¡°Alright then,¡± I stand up, ¡°if you wanna play like this, fuck you and let me do my job.¡± ¡°Can you...just try not to pull the trigger if you don¡¯t have to? Knock ¡®em out or...whatever,¡± she notices my behavior and tries to calm me down with a softer voice, ¡°you might not have a badge anymore, and you can wash your hands off our business at any time...but you¡¯re still dragging my ass into the fire when you collaborate with us like this. If you want this extra money, you gotta work with me here.¡± ¡°And you gotta cut me some slack. Did you read the report? My gun was pointblank. He was too close, I just reacted like a human would. Trust my words, Lowe...I didn¡¯t shoot him for nothing.¡± Lowe lets out a sharp, quick sigh and shakes her head, ¡°well, internal affairs isn¡¯t made of humans. Just hope that they understand why you killed him.¡± ¡°Right, yeah,¡± I nod. ¡°Anyways...how do things look? You said that guy was related to your investigation earlier. What do you mean?¡± ¡°He was tailing me since I left the club. I thought I lost him, so I didn¡¯t call for backup. Before attacking me, he told me he was told to make sure I didn¡¯t dig too deep. He was in on it,¡± I cross my arms, ¡°he was there when I got to the club, as a customer.¡± ¡°Whoever¡¯s behind Marie¡¯s disappearance is organized,¡± Lowe sighs through her nose, ¡°I should probably check if there were other recent disappearances. We could be looking at something serial.¡± ¡°Marie was hanging out with this blonde boy, rich and well dressed. I was going to get to his house and ask the bouncer who testified for a description of the man.¡± ¡°If you cross check and both descriptions are right, we might have our guy''s sketch,¡± Lowe says, ¡°good. Go back out there, and come back with everything but another body.¡± I step out of the interrogation room, rubbing the back of my neck in displeasure. Lowe¡¯s right, internal affairs is going to be on my ass for this...they hate it when PIs make useless shootings. Whatever, that can wait. I got a missing girl to find. Volume 1 - Chapter 3 I knock on the guy¡¯s door. He lives in quite the nice apartment. The door opens almost instantly, a woman in her thirties looks up at me with a confused look. The wife. ¡°May I help you?¡± ¡°Detective D¡¯arbie, working on a disappearance case,¡± I show her my card, ¡°is your husband at home?¡± ¡°Yes, he is,¡± the woman nods, ¡°Viktor! It¡¯s the police! For that girl that disappeared!¡± The guy comes to the door next, letting the wife disappear into the house. He¡¯s shirtless, and he smells like shaving cream. ¡°What do you need?¡± ¡°I wanted to ask you a couple of questions since you¡¯re the first witness of Marie¡¯s disappearing.¡± ¡°I just saw her get into the car, man,¡± he shrugged, ¡°come on, it¡¯s my day off¡­¡± ¡°It won¡¯t take long,¡± I step forward, signaling to him that I¡¯m not in the mood for a ¡®no¡¯. He sighs and rubs his face, opening the door wide enough that I can go through. The smell of expensive cologne and fresh coffee fills the air. I step into the living room, a little girl is sitting on the carpet beside the fireplace, reading a book. ¡°Who are you? Are you daddy¡¯s friend?¡± She immediately asks. ¡°Yes he is sweetie,¡± Viktor replies, putting on comfortable shirt, ¡°just give us a minute, okay?¡± ¡°But you said we¡¯d go to the park!¡± ¡°I know sweetheart, we will go! Why don¡¯t you get ready while I speak to my friend here?¡± ¡°Okay! Don¡¯t keep him too busy!¡± She tells me before going up some stairs. ¡°Alright, what do you need man?¡± He sips on his cup of coffee and leans against a wall, crossing his legs. He¡¯s comfortable and confident, good. ¡°Anything you can tell me about those last moments. You said Marie got into a man¡¯s car, a man with a suit. Describe me both the car and the man.¡± ¡°Car was a black limousine, tinted windows,¡± he says, ¡°that¡¯s all. Didn¡¯t catch the plate, I didn¡¯t know that she was going to disappear, of course.¡± ¡°Right. The guy?¡± ¡°He was a blonde young man. Expensive watch, nice suit...and a shitty smug face. You know...probably daddy¡¯s boy. He didn¡¯t look old enough to have a good paying job, especially in the undergrounds.¡± It¡¯s the same guy, then. Marie was dating him, and she ended up being kidnapped by him on the job. A rich stalker? He gave her gifts, which I spotted at the apartment. He tried to date her, but Momi told me she looked like she wasn¡¯t feeling it...and then he got so mad he took the harsh path. But how could he bring her from her car to his? And why through the club in front of everyone''s eyes? ¡°Alright Viktor, thank you. Can you also tell me something? How many people are overseeng the club¡¯s security each night?¡± ¡°We gotta be at least ten or so. I was the bouncer that night, but I also work in the back.¡± ¡°And are you sure you saw Marie coming out of the front door and not the parking lot¡¯s gate?¡± ¡°I¡¯m positive, she and the little guy came out the front door,¡± he affirms. ¡°Oliver, the manager¡¯s son. Is he the only one that sits at the desk in the corridor connecting the back and front of the club?¡± ¡°Yes he¡¯s always there, why? You got something on him?¡± ¡°Not really¡­¡± But he must have seen who was bringing Marie to the blonde guy, then. I need to question him again. I step back into the cold air. It¡¯s almost lunch break. I¡¯m starting to piece everything together. The blonde guy falls for Marie, he asks her out. She doesn''t feel the connection, she rejects him after a couple of days¡­he reacts badly, he has the power and money to bribe a staff member and force her into his car one last night. She disappears. It was quite easy, figuring out the whats and hows. Now I just have to pinpoint the whos.
Finally, evening comes. I step into the HoHole. It¡¯s way more lively now, women dancing sensually on men for a few bucks, men getting drunk and filthy because they have nothing else to enjoy¡­yeah, no, it¡¯s not lively at all. It¡¯s sad. I get to the counter, and this time, a young bartender nods at me. ¡°What can I get you?¡± ¡°The permission to go into the back, I¡¯m working a case for the police.¡± ¡°Uhm...I¡­¡± He doesn¡¯t even know where he is. I sigh and go to the door myself, a security guy blocks the way. ¡°Can I help you?¡± He asks. ¡°Yes. Police. I¡¯m investigating a case and I gotta get in there,¡± I reply casually. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. He hesitates for a split second before nodding, stepping aside to let me through. ¡°You¡¯re here for Marie. Go in. Hope you get the bastard.¡± ¡°I will,¡± I smile at him and push the door. The manager looks at me with a surprised look. He¡¯s at the desk. ¡°Detective D¡¯arbie, hello,¡± he says, looking rather surprised. ¡°Where¡¯s Oliver?¡± ¡°Oh, he said he felt sick and left early. I¡¯m staying at the desk for him.¡± This is weird. He looked just fine this morning. ¡°Where can I find him?¡± ¡°At home, but he¡¯s sick, again...do you really need to bother him?¡± ¡°I do. Where does he live?¡± He hesitates for a second, but he gives in and tells me his address. "One last question. Was Oliver at this desk the night Marie disappeared?" "Yes. Why?" He asks, becoming more and more worried. I leave without wasting my time with an explanation.
I reach the door, the apartment¡¯s pretty cheap and in a very ugly zone. The father doesn¡¯t pay him much, it seems. Just before my patience starts to run thin after knocking, he finally answers the door. ¡°Detective?¡± ¡°Kiddo, I got some questions for you,¡± I cut to the chase, ¡°about Marie.¡± ¡°I told you everything, Detective¡­¡± he replies with tired eyes, ¡°I¡¯m feeling sick, can we do this tomorrow?¡± ¡°I think you didn¡¯t tell me everything, let me in.¡± The air gets tense. He looks at me with wariness, he didn¡¯t expect me to be so pushy. ¡°What do you even want to know?¡± ¡°The night Marie disappeared, you were at your desk, right?¡± ¡°N-No¡­¡± he muttered, ¡°I was sick that day too.¡± He just lied. Not only he saw who forced Marie, but he¡¯s also covering it. He¡¯s in on it. ¡°Your father told me you were there, you just lied to my face.¡± He attempted to close the door, I put a foot inside and stopped him immediately. ¡°You don¡¯t have a warrant! You¡¯re trespassing!¡± ¡°Oh really, Oliver?¡± I push him inside his house and lock the door behind us, I grab his collar and slam him against the nearest wall. ¡°You¡¯re gonna see what an angry human police officer is capable of. I don¡¯t care about going by the book.¡± ¡°W-What the fuck?! L-Let me go!¡± ¡°I will if you tell me the truth. You saw who kidnapped Marie, right?¡± ¡°L-Let me go! I don¡¯t know anything, I-¡± I slam him against the wall again, making him whimper in fear. ¡°You¡¯re gonna be so fucking sorry for acting oblivious, kid. We used to beat the shit out of those who hurt women, you know?" My eyes pierce him with growing irritation. "Talk.¡± He finally gives up, ¡°f-fine...I¡¯ll talk. Just don¡¯t hurt me, please¡­¡± ¡°Good. Sit, there,¡± I point over his ruined couch. He slowly sits down, still shaking slightly. ¡°I...I didn¡¯t help him out, okay? I don¡¯t have anything to do with what he did. He just paid me to keep quiet." ¡°How did he pay you? When? What happened, exactly? Tell me everything.¡± He stares at the floor, like it¡¯s gonna help him out of his situation. His hands still shake. I bet he doesn¡¯t even feel guilty. He¡¯s just afraid of being in jail. ¡°Some days before Marie disappeared, he ordered a girl to bring upstairs, in a private room. She wasn¡¯t Marie, she was a random worker. When they were done, they came back downstairs...but instead of heading back to the club¡¯s public area, he stopped by my desk. He asked me if...Marie did private services, and I told him no...she signed off them, she was just a dancer.¡± ¡°And then?¡± ¡°Then he randomly sneaked into the back again the night she disappeared. I immediately asked him what he was doing there, and he put an envelope on my desk...cash. Triple the amount I make in a year. After that, he went out in the back and came with Marie alongside him.¡± ¡°Was she scared? I found out that all her things were still in the car. She was forced.¡± ¡°No...she was smiling, actually.¡± What? She didn¡¯t resist? ¡°She wasn¡¯t trying to ask for help or anything?¡± ¡°No detective, she was very willing. I...I didn¡¯t understand neither the bribing money nor the situation at all. I was stupid, okay? I¡¯m sorry.¡± Viktor even said she came out of the main entrance. Wouldn¡¯t she have screamed for help, now that I think of it? He was confident in what he was doing, because he didn¡¯t bother bringing her to his car from the parking lot¡¯s fence gate. He went through the whole club with her, as she smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± I shake my head, ¡°so...she was willing? But she¡¯s been leaving her car and apartment untouched for days.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, detective. I mean...maybe she ran away from her old life.¡± ¡°But what about the bribe money, then? This blonde guy made it look like you were about to see something you had to be silent about." Oliver looks at me with a dumb expression. He¡¯s not following my thoughts, of course. He¡¯s not a detective. I should ask Lowe about this. I¡¯m...confused.
I reach the nearest payphone and immediately dial Lowe¡¯s number. she sighs. She¡¯s at home, I don¡¯t hear the station¡¯s buzzing. ¡°Not yet,¡± I chuckle, clearing my throat and getting serious again thereafter, ¡°listen, Lowe...something¡¯s not right about this case. Marie...I just found out from Oliver, the son of the club¡¯s owner, that she was smiling and comfortable with the blonde guy.¡± ¡°Yes but, hear me out. Not only she was smiling when going along with this man¡­I just started to realize something else. The blonde man, our suspect...he bribed Oliver and went through the club¡¯s back to fetch Marie. But then...he brought her to his car going through the whole club again...from the back to the front, among customers and staff, instead of going through the parking lot¡¯s gate.¡± ¡°Exactly, Lowe. Good to know you¡¯re catching my drift. Things are out of place...¡± ¡°Right, thank you.¡± ¡°Lowe, he was at the club. It can¡¯t be anything else.¡± ¡°I know, I know...but he must be connected. You really didn¡¯t find anything at all?¡± ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll come by tomorrow afternoon, I have a private gig to take care of in the morning. I hope you find something by then.¡± I sigh and step away from the phone, stuffing my hands in my pockets. The streets are clearing...it¡¯s 10:00 PM. Time to go home.
Home. It¡¯s exactly how I left it. Dimly lit, cluttered, cold and dusty. I throw my coat on the hanger and stretch, unbuttoning my undershirt until I feel free enough. I grab a beer from the kitchen, the can hissing loudly. I drop myself on the couch and stare outside...my apartment is right in front of a pharmacy...so I always see a funny green cross blinking against my window. I¡¯m not in the mood of flashy colors now, so I pull the curtain and end up in even deeper darkness. The beer goes down bitter, I hate it but I can¡¯t afford more expensive liquor. At least I get to drink it cold. Tomorrow morning, I have to look into an infidelity case a husband hired me for. My mind goes back to Marie¡¯s case. She was smiling. A fake smile? But why didn¡¯t she ask for any help? The club was probably filled with security guards like always. Was a ¡°help me, please!¡± too hard? I don¡¯t get it, really. Maybe she was blackmailed or threatened in a way that forced her to cooperate? But I didn¡¯t find anything in her apartment that traced to loved ones of deeper secrets. Was she drugged? Drugged to the point she was manipulable? Meh... Also, the blood tax is coming soon. I¡¯ll have to head over to the hospital. I just hope they don¡¯t suck too much like last time...I fainted in front of everyone. Every month, you have to donate part of your blood, the day is the same of your birth date. This is because Other Ones need our blood to survive. I shake my head, trying not to overwork my head with any other frustration I have right now. Every time I¡¯m back home, I remind myself I should relax. But honestly, I forgot how to relax a long time ago. Let¡¯s just hope tomorrow¡¯s a better day than today. Volume 1 - Chapter 4 ¡°There she is,¡± I mutter, munching on my warm sandwich, just bought across the street. This woman is making me work during lunch. She was supposed to be at work, or that¡¯s what the husband told me last week when he came into my office. Well, she¡¯s not at work...she just got into a car with a man who definitely isn¡¯t her husband. I quickly call over a cab that was parked there. ¡°Follow that car, please.¡± ¡°I¡¯m on my break pal.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pay you double the taximeter¡¯s value.¡± ¡°Fine, get in.¡± I should really get a car...I still haven¡¯t adjusted to how many people use them nowadays. Can you blame me? During my time, there were horses. Now you can¡¯t have them underground, because pollution is so bad they get sick. We follow the car slowly but steadily until they reach a diner. I get out of the cab after paying and go inside shortly after them. I sit at a table and order just a drink since I ate. They talk, smile, laugh. Yes, they¡¯re seeing each other...definitely. I lean back into the seat and...just watch. When I deal with adultery gigs I always find myself wondering why the hell a partner wouldn¡¯t just break up if they¡¯re unhappy. I can¡¯t even remember what love feels like. I know I¡¯ve felt it before, but now, after so long...I just can¡¯t tell how it was, and...I don¡¯t think I ever will again. However, I¡¯m pretty sure whatever this woman is doing isn¡¯t out of love. She¡¯s touchy. Her legs constantly move towards his, her hands brush his limbs an awkward number of times. His smile isn¡¯t one of a man in love, it¡¯s the smile of someone who has an erection. She¡¯s just bored, he¡¯s just excited. Is that something worth ruining a ten years old marriage? I sip my drink and shake my head. I¡¯m not here to judge, just to make sure they¡¯re actually having an affair. Finally, it happens. They kiss. Poor husband, he was right...she¡¯s definitely going to be boned by this random man if she hasn¡¯t been already. I¡¯m ready to leave the money on the table, but before I can pull out my wallet, something unexpected happens. ¡°Is your next private gig an adultery case? You¡¯re watching that couple with a disappointed face.¡± ¡°Lowe,¡± I mutter. She just sat on my table without even asking. She needs to talk. ¡°I¡¯m used to eating lunch here, it¡¯s near the station. Quite surprising to find you here.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m following those two for a client. They just kissed...so I¡¯m done here. I¡¯m going to tell him he¡¯s got horns.¡± ¡°Horns?¡± She asks, smiling slightly with amusement. ¡°Yes, the betrayed one in a relationship has horns when...nevermind, it¡¯s just a thing we say.¡± ¡°Where did it come from?¡± I chuckle at her question and shake my head, ¡°it¡¯s just an old way of saying you¡¯re being cheated on.¡± ¡°You humans are weird.¡± ¡°Thanks for pointing it out.¡± Lowe sighed and joined her hands, ¡°well, it sound like the perfect gig for someone like you. You can sit back and bask in apathetic cynism.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not apathetic. I¡¯m just sick of seeing the same thing over and over again.¡± ¡°Why do you humans even cheat on partners, anyways? Isn¡¯t it easy to just¡­break up? Is the instinct of mating that strong?¡± Other Ones don¡¯t mate as often as humans, which is why Saubureau is 40% Other Ones and 60% humans. We just can¡¯t keep our genitals in our pants, while they¡¯re so cold and logical they don¡¯t see the reason behind love. Also, cross-breeding isn¡¯t possible either...thank god. ¡°I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s both that and just...people choosing the wrong people to live their lives with.¡± ¡°Mhm, I suppose so,¡± Lowe nods, ¡°I never fell in love, and I doubt I ever will. Our species just doesn¡¯t bother.¡± ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s not capable at all,¡± I comment. ¡°There are cases, Edward. Love is possible, just hard and unnecessary for us." ¡°Whatever.¡± I scoff and stand up, already fed up with talking to her. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Wait, I didn¡¯t come here to chat...of course.¡± ¡°I knew that from the moment you sat there, but I¡¯m not really in the mood of talking to an Other One right now,¡± I retorted. ¡°It¡¯s about Marie. Sit.¡± I groan and sit back down, ¡°alright. What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°It¡¯s good news for us...or at least I hope it is for you.¡± ¡°Just spit it out,¡± I sigh. Lowe sighs and looks at me with her deep, red eyes, ¡°internal affairs is willing to let your shooting go...¡± I clench my fists. I already know what she¡¯s going to say. ¡°But you need to be off the case." ¡°Bullshit!¡± I shout, slamming my fist on the table, everyone turns around, making Lowe sigh and cover her face. I lower my voice, maintaining a pissed tone, ¡°you couldn¡¯t even talk to the club¡¯s owners, how do you expect to keep going without a human¡¯s experience?¡± ¡°Your human experience is valuable indeed. But his case is gonna cost me too much. I signed the papers already, you can''t investigate.¡± I furrow my brows, ¡°are you serious? Just to cover you ass?" Lowe sighs and fixes her glasses, the jewelry on the arm jingles annoyingly, ¡°yes. I am serious. Again, as your supervisor, I can''t risk-¡± ¡°Another woman raped and killed...AND FORGOTTEN!¡± I stand up abruptly, screaming once more. Lowe doesn¡¯t react, as always. She sighs and stands up too, fixing her uniform, ¡°you¡¯ll get your full payment up to what you gathered for us, Edward. Don¡¯t worry.¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t about money...it¡¯s about respect. The case was mine! And Marie could be out there!" ¡°It¡¯s not yours anymore,¡± she coldly replies, ¡°I¡¯m going to give you a couple of days to cool off, Edward. Come back to me when you¡¯re able to think straight.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to find someone that cares about Marie, Lowe...I¡¯m getting a private gig to keep digging. I can do that.¡± She stands up and turns her head to me one last time. ¡°I¡¯m telling you now. Back off. You don¡¯t want to lose your license.¡± And just like that, I¡¯m kicked off the case. ¡°Fuck!¡± I hiss through my teeth, crumpling the diner¡¯s receipt. Meanwhile, the cheating couple left. The diner felt too suffocating. The dark streets of Noctharn look even darker now. I¡¯m sitting in a random park...fake grass and fake trees entertaining young kids with a lie. I¡¯m off the case. I shouldn¡¯t care, since I¡¯m getting paid. But...Marie is definitely going to become an unknown face in a pile of cold cases. ¡°This world...is going to shit,¡± I sigh, blowing out the smoke of my fifth cigarette. There¡¯s nothing I can do, though. I can¡¯t risk getting my license revoked. I¡¯m going to stick with private cases for a while.
I finally have a reason to go back to my office. I wonder how many appointments piled up during the whole day yesterday and this morning. It¡¯s a small building, I own it. It was my father¡¯s in the past...private investigator, just like me. It¡¯s the only place where I feel at home. Not even my apartment cuts it anymore...I¡¯m left alone with my thoughts, while here, I have the only friendly face remaining. ¡°Oh, hello Edward.¡± Elima, my assistant. 24 years old. She chose to work for me as soon a she saw my posters requesting for a new assistant after my wife died. It started with a bunch of favors with small pay, then it became a full-time job. ¡°Hm¡­¡± I unlock the door of my office, while Elima sets some papers at her front desk, right in front of the entrance. She glances at me and immediately senses something. ¡°Are you alright?¡± The smell is amazing, old books...steeped in cinnamon and citrus thanks to Elima¡¯s special candles. They make me feel better. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine.¡± But the lie doesn¡¯t last long. Marie¡¯s case isn¡¯t on my desk anymore...fucking Lowe. ¡°Detective Lowe came and demanded I gave it to her. I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s why you¡¯re down.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I mutter, leaning against the desk with my head hanging. ¡°Oh...do you, uhm, need me to fill up the schedule?¡± She asks, walking to me as she closes the door behind her. ¡°No, the money is...there. They¡¯re gonna pay me...and, well, it¡¯s a lot of money as always.¡± ¡°Ah...then, you¡¯re just...down, right?¡± She comes closer. I look at her from above and smile softly. ¡°Yeah. The stupid old me getting worked up with things that don¡¯t even involve him.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not stupid,¡± she chuckles, patting my arm, ¡°you just love your job.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± My body relaxes as she comforts me slowly, rubbing her hand up and down my arm. Elima is so kind. I wish everyone was just like her. ¡°Well, there¡¯s nothing you can do, right?¡± She smiles bitterly. ¡°No, there isn¡¯t,¡± I shake my head, ¡°I¡¯m...I just hate the fact that they¡¯re definitely going to forget about her...about the blonde motherfucker¡­about everything. It always goes like like that.¡± ¡°Cold cases piled up¡­¡± she nods knowingly, ¡°well, that¡¯s just how it is.¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± A moment of silence. Then, her lips move to speak again, hesitant, ¡°well, you need some...help?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± I chuckle and squeeze her shoulder, ¡°just...give me the schedule, open the office again...I¡¯ll call some clients.¡± She bites her lips and nods, ¡°okay.¡± She gives me the folder and walks out back to her desk sheepishly. I sit at my desk and open the folder. I need to tackle a good case right now, to get my mind off Marie¡¯s. The first one is a woman client named Claire Eisern. Quite the fancy name. Maybe she has a good pay for me. I read a small note beside her name, written by Elima. *This girl never came to the office, she insisted she talked to you through the phone. Great. Nevermind...I¡¯m already feeling like this is going to be a hassle. I call her, the phone on the other side rings for a while. ¡°Detective D¡¯arbie here.¡± ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you go to the police?¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay, I understand.¡± She has a frail, scared voice. She doesn¡¯t want to leave her house. I try to keep a calm, reassuring tone. ¡°Tell me everything I need to know.¡± I grab my note block and write down what she just said. ¡°Describe this girl for me.¡± I stop my pen, ¡°wait, blue eyes?¡± All Other Ones are white haired and red-eyed. The red color derives from the high concentration of hemoglobin in their system. Other Ones become blue-eyed when they die. This girl, Claire, is saying something absurd. I pinch my forehead. This is driving me nuts already, ¡°keep going. What were you saying?¡± I sigh, ¡°why do you think she¡¯s following you? What kind of life do you live, Claire?¡± I hate dealing with scared clients. They never make it easy to deal with their problems. I lean back into the chair and soften my voice even more, ¡°alright, Claire, I need you to take a breath...okay? Just tell me about yourself, as if we were friends knowing each other.¡± her voice softens, ¡°Okay...do you have friends, family¡­? Anyone who could be traced back to this weird girl?¡± ¡°Okay. What does this girl do, Claire?¡± ¡°Claire, it¡¯s okay. Listen to me, here¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do now. Tell me where you live, I¡¯m going to tail you and spot the girl for you and take it from there. I¡¯ll make sure she doesn¡¯t hurt you.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I immediately hear a sigh of relief on the other end, ¡°Just doing my job,¡± I reply, ¡°I¡¯ll be out of your house in a bit, okay? Don¡¯t get scared if you see me. I¡¯m a tall man with beard and long hair.¡± She giggles, Volume 1 - Chapter 5 If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Volume 1 - Chapter 6 Young Woman Found Dead in the City¡¯s South End district. Details Suggest a Disturbing Pattern. In the evening of the 15th of October, 21 year old Lila Berniech was found dead by her tenant, after missing payment day for several weeks. The corpse was found in a decaying state, suggesting the murder took place a while ago. The autopsy revealed that the girl was first raped, suffocated and desacrated by the killer, who dug out all her entrails in a frantic manner, scattering them all over the crime scene. Law enforcement is still investigating, and further information were denied by the leading detective of the case, Bethy Lowe, who immediately classified the case and prevented any more information from being leaked to the press. Claire Eisern, a 23 year old girl who worked at a boutique near South End¡¯s plaza, is a murder victim who was killed in the same way, suggesting a pattern that we fear is not going to stop at two victims. Is this a new danger we should be scared of as frail humans? Is this the work of an Other One, given the gruesome circumstances of the death? Volume 1 - Chapter 7 ¡°Edward, stop this madness right now!¡± Elima is trying to stop me from going to Claire¡¯s house. She stands between my bedroom door and the exit of my apartment, still in her nightgown. ¡°Elima, just go home,¡± I say, trying to push past her. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you go, end of story! They¡¯ll get him, I¡¯m sure of it!¡± She retorts, keeping her stance. ¡°They won''t!¡± I shout, ¡°they¡¯ll just fuck everything up. As always. And this is serious...this fucking freak has to get justice.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re willing to lose your job because of their fuckups?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not risking my job,¡± I reply, sounding ¡°I¡¯m doing it.¡± ¡°What did Lowe say? This is not yours! You¡¯re going against the law if you intrude the crime scene! She even classified the case! What other signs do you need so that you fucking back off?¡± I stare into her eyes and harden my expression. ¡°Elima.¡± She doesn¡¯t reply. She shakes her head. This isn¡¯t about the job, it¡¯s about me. ¡°What if this guy...this killer, retaliates because you''re trying to get him? You were attacked during Marie''s case, it can happen again..." ¡°I''m able to defend myself." ¡°What about me? Aren¡¯t you scared that I¡¯ll-¡± I block her mouth with my hand instantly. ¡°Edward!¡± She retaliates, slapping my wrist away. I push her to the side forcefully from my bedroom and open the door, pointing outside, ¡°dress up and get out.¡± She looks at me with a hurt expression, ¡°why?¡± I¡¯m shaking. I chuckle bitterly for a second, as my heart rings inside my ears, loud and fast, ¡°this isn¡¯t what you should be doing, you''re not my wife. Go home. Now." She quickly dresses up and walks to me, the open door to our side. ¡°Why are you so allergic to happiness?¡± I look at her for a brief moment, before closing my eyes in contemplation. Sighing through my nose, I caress her hair gently. ¡°I gave up on that long ago, Elima.¡± Her gaze lowers. She wants to cling to me, but I step back. Finally, she surrenders...and after grabbing her coat and purse from the hanger, she leaves. She doesn¡¯t understand. I have to do this. I let Claire die...and now another young woman is dead just like here because I didn¡¯t follow up. After Marie and this together...I just need to stop this motherfucker, whoever he is. This is the only thing I¡¯m good at nowadays. I don¡¯t need or want any other type of satisfaction. I need to get going. Forensics are probably still at the scene, so I¡¯ll have to go to Claire¡¯s house tonight. But for now, there are some things I can still do. I go to the phone and immediately dial a very old number. ¡°Hi, old friend.¡± ¡°It has. So...I¡¯m not gonna sugarcoat it.¡± I chuckle, ¡°that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not glad to meet you after so long.¡± ¡°Yeah, sounds good. I¡¯ll be there in a bit.¡±
Manny¡¯s pub. The claustrophobic pub of my childhood. My father used to come here to hang out with his friends...sadly, he brought me along, even though I was fourteen. It was not his fault at all...I was the one obsessed with doing everything he did, even adult stuff...which is why I¡¯m a private eye in the first place. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Mom was always against it, but my father was convinced that the sooner I got used to the worst parts of Noctharn, the sooner I¡¯d give up on being his copycat. No matter how many times he asked me to stay home, I¡¯d sneak out and try to stay with him at this pub. Well, turns out he was right. There was this guy...he was a bit older than me, but we immediately got along. He would ask what I was doing in such a place. He was Manny¡¯s son, so he was working there for him with side-jobs such as moving boxes and managing storage. We soon became best friends, and also discovered we went to the same school. Errilk, my best friend. We¡¯re not so close nowadays, we¡¯re mostly deep in our business...but we¡¯re still there for each other when hard times come. Which is why I¡¯m sitting in front of him, two beers between us. I told him everything about the situation first of all. ¡°Hm...I see, man,¡± he nodded, brushing his thick beard while taking a huge sip, ¡°I get it, you wanna get shit done because you know the cops aren¡¯t going to get this guy. I¡¯m not here to judge you.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I smile bitterly and nod. ¡°So!¡± He claps his hands and rubs them, ¡°what do you need?¡± Errilk has a...particular profession. He has connections, he deals with the slums and the black market. He¡¯s a good all-rounder when things get dirty. His only rule? No hitmen for innocent people. That is why I respect him very much. ¡°First of all, I need a borrowed car. I can¡¯t let it be traced to me, I gotta go in some places where I could be watched.¡± ¡°Alright. Car with fake license plate. What¡¯s next?¡± ¡°I need to see if the police has info on similar cases. I¡¯m pretty sure Claire wasn¡¯t the first girl, the M.O doesn¡¯t feel like a first kill,¡± I say. ¡°Hm...you sure you wanna go down that way? You risk losing your badge.¡± I sigh and look at the table, pondering his question, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have come to you if I didn¡¯t want to get dirty. I''ll be careful." ¡°Well...fine then. Whatever you choose, I¡¯ll respect it,¡± he nods and takes another sip, licking his lips clean from the beer¡¯s foam. ¡°Just warning you...it¡¯s gonna cost. The kind of calls I¡¯ll have to make won¡¯t be easy at all.¡± ¡°I have money, don¡¯t worry.¡± ¡°I know, just a heads up,¡± he nods, ¡°what else?¡± I clear my throat, my expression getting a bit more serious as I finish the beer and set it aside. ¡°One last thing, for now,¡± I lower my voice, ¡°I need you to get in contact with anyone who knows about...a young Other One girl with blue eyes and a black dress. It sounds like an urban legend or something. Wanna make sure Claire¡¯s vision was isolated...and actually that. A vision.¡± He furrows his brows, his lips attached to the glass as she processes my question. When he sets it down, he coughs softly before asking, ¡°the blue-eyed Other One Claire saw? The schizophrenic Claire?¡± I sigh out of irritation, leaning closer to him ¡°I wanna make sure it was just something she saw...I have to know if it¡¯s unrelated.¡± He raises his hands, sensing my darkened tone, ¡°Okay man, I¡¯ll do it. I have the right people that are fixated with this kind of spooky knowledge...I¡¯ll get you in touch with them, and you¡¯ll be able to ask for information yourself.¡± ¡°Good, thank you,¡± I nod, standing up, ¡°I¡¯ll get going then, I have some other stuff to do.¡± ¡°Alright man. I¡¯ll get the car to your apartment in a couple of hours, the keys will be taped to the front left tire. And I¡¯ll call you when the rest of what you asked is done.¡± ¡°Yes, call my office or my home. If I don¡¯t reply, just send a letter.¡± I offer my hand to Errilk, which he grabs immediately with a smile, ¡°Thank you, seriously,¡± I say, with deep respect. ¡°No problem man, just don¡¯t do anything stupid.¡± ¡°Too late for that,¡± I chuckle. ¡°Then don¡¯t do anything too stupid.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±
I get to my office, I should get lunch but I can¡¯t waste my time. I have to postpone some cases of next week, I can¡¯t be too busy if this whole serial killer thing becomes something actually big. ¡°Even in the week-ends, I¡¯m here¡­¡± I chuckle at my own words as I ruffle through Elima¡¯s folders. I have no idea where she keeps things. I grab the phone and call her house. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Mrs. Rondart, hello. I¡¯m Detective D¡¯arbie.¡± her mother¡¯s voice is immediately darker, ¡°I need to speak with Elima, it¡¯s job related.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just a quick question, I¡¯m at the office and I don¡¯t know where she left a folder I need.¡± I take a deep breath. ¡°Mrs. Rondart, this is important. I need you to bring me Elima, she¡¯s an adult and she¡¯s able to decide by herself what to do with her job,¡± I say, putting up a fake smile she can¡¯t even see...it¡¯s for my own sanity." The phone blares with both voices arguing. I¡¯m...surprised. Elima has always talked about her parents with a smile, saying only good things about them. Oh well, maybe even healthy families have fights like this. But...grounded? She¡¯s 24¡­ Finall,y the mother gives up and lets me speak with Elima. her voice is soft, shaky. She knows our last conversation¡¯s heaviness was still lingering between us. ¡°Elima,¡± I mutter her name, sitting down at her desk, ¡°I need to know where you keep the folder of the next week¡¯s clients I have to speak to. I need to postpone some stuff.¡± ¡°No, not a whole week...just some afternoons in case I need them. I just don¡¯t want overlaps.¡± She stays silent for a while, the phone buzzes into my ear. She really doesn¡¯t want me to do this. ¡°Thank you Elima. And¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I know I am disappointing you.¡± More silence. A soft little sigh comes out of the receiver, I close the call, closing my eyes for a brief second. I need to get back to work.
Afternoon. Finally, I¡¯ve made the last call. I have enough money to get by, so it¡¯s not much of a loss. It¡¯s 4:00...I haven¡¯t even eaten lunch. I get up from the chair and stretch. No phone call from Errilk...well, that¡¯s just normal. I¡¯ll probably have to wait for a few days at least. For now, I¡¯ll pass by Claire¡¯s house as soon as the car gets to my apartment. I need to look for an opportunity to get inside. On the way home, I decide to grab a bite. After thanking the street vendor, I walk down the usual path to my home with my wrap between cheap tin foil, Afternoons are not as busy as mornings, since most people are still on the clock...most jobs here include saturdays to allow people to reach the end of the month without starving. All you see are stay at home mothers walking with strollers and young teenagers hanging out. I feel out of place, as a big man with a beard, among these people. I¡¯ve always loved my job because it pays damn well and I make my own hours. As long as I get clients, everything¡¯s gonna flow like this until I retire. Maybe this is why Elima chose to work for me instead of throwing herself inside some suffocating factory.
The window is open, so when I hear a car parking in front of the apartment¡¯s complex, I look outside. A man gets out, locks the door and puts the keys on the tire...after that, he hits the streets. My car. It¡¯s time to get to work. Volume 1 - Chapter 8 Claire¡¯s house...yellow tape covering the entrance after weeks. I silently leave the car, even if the streets are empty. I close the door gently, locking it. I confidently walk to the doorstep and immediately start lockpicking, looking left and right occasionally. I can¡¯t be seen here, or it¡¯s all over. Finally, the lock clicks. I get in, going past the yellow tape, being careful not to tear it. I step inside. The damp, bloody air makes me immediately remember the day I saw her corpse lying on the ground. I reach the crime scene, the very living room where we talked that night before I left. I see the silhouette of her on the carpet. She¡¯s not here anymore...she wasn¡¯t even buried, probably. I carefully check the living room¡¯s surroundings. Everything is in its place, the table is fixed, the chairs at the end of the room in place...the only proof that a horrifying murder happened is right beneath my feet, a dried up pool of blood. Claire was assaulted and killed right here. She wasn¡¯t moved. I suddenly groan and sit on the same chair I was sitting on when we talked. I rub my face, trying to suppress the frustration. I¡¯m an idiot. Why did I even come here? The place has been swiped clean by forensics, of course. I¡¯m grasping at straws...for a case that isn''t mine. I checked her entire house, and now I¡¯m heading to the last place I have left...her bedroom. It¡¯s neat and tidy. I feel bad for what I¡¯m about to do. I search every corner of the room, just like all the others. I open all drawers and check under every single nook and cranny I can find. After some time, I find a bunch of documents stashed into a drawer of a cabinet. It¡¯s paperwork about the house, her job, contracts...the stuff we all have inside our houses. After some skimming, though, I finally find something useful. Her medical documents. A specific batch is what catches my eye, her prescriptions. They were all signed by a certain Dr. Heinman Bellingham. It might be useful later. The rest of her room doesn¡¯t have much to show, but before I can leave...I see it. Her bookshelf. The spine of a book is slightly pulled out, not in place like the rest. Was it touched recently? I immediately grab it and look at the cover. ¡°The Blackened Theatre¡±. I start leafing, it¡¯s...a novel. I start reading some paragraphs, it¡¯s a gothic horror novel about an unknown narrator that ends up in an empty town, shrouded in fog. Creepy. I skim through it, not really paying attention to the rest...until I find a dog-eared page. I shiver as soon as I see it. The whole page is completely blackened and ruined by a repetitive sentence, written all over: I SAW HER, I SAW HER, I SAW HER Over and over again. The handwriting is shaky, inconsistent. However, there¡¯s a small portion of the page that¡¯s clean, and it¡¯s also marked...it¡¯s a passage. Claire avoided scribbling over it, I suppose.
The White Maiden came in the night, her dress darker than the void between stars, her eyes pale and gleaming like a sky that has never known the sun. She did not speak, but I understood her. She showed me things that should not be seen, things that burned my mind forever, changing me. She whispered into my ear as we became one, asking me the same question. ¡°Do you love me?¡±
The description sounds like the Outer One Claire was seeing. The frantic and constant repetitions of ¡°I saw her¡± all around the passage prove it to me. It was a hallucination. Then...the serial killed was a coincidence? Now that I think of it, she was raped...by male genitalia. In the first place, no female was involved in this murder. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. I sit down at her desk, dejected. I don¡¯t know what to say. I ignored her calls for help, and I was right...the girl she kept seeing was a novel¡¯s character. The White Maiden. But...she did say that this specific vision felt real, tangible. Maybe she was deluding herself and she was seeing her male stalker as this White Maiden? Maybe that¡¯s why I didn¡¯t recognize anyone watching her in the crowd at the bar. I wanna dig deeper...this fucker might have played on this poor girl¡¯s mental instability to become her ghost.
Back at the apartment, I¡¯m tired. I didn¡¯t find much else at Claire¡¯s house...it was mostly clean. I wish I could get my hands on the evidence the police gathered. My only next lead is her contacts. Mostly coworkers of the boutique. I will pass by Monday morning and ask some questions. I crack open a beer and dial her number on the phone. ¡°Elima, thank god you¡¯re the one answering this time.¡± She chuckles, ¡°Don¡¯t they bring you with them?¡± Silence, then a weak response, I sigh, ¡°are you gonna eat dinner alone?¡± I bite my lips and take a deep breath, ¡°look...you can come over if you want. I know you¡¯re angry, but-¡± I nod and swallow my words, hard, ¡°thank you, Elima.¡± I smile,
She chose to have dinner out at a restaurant...my wallet¡¯s gonna scold me but...anything to make her less disappointed in me. ¡°So...what did you find at Claire¡¯s house?¡± I raise my eyes from the plate, confused, ¡°what tells you that I went there?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, Edward,¡± she chuckles. I sigh and roll my eyes, ¡°not much...just proof that her hallucinations were exactly that, hallucinations. It¡¯s the character of a novel.¡± ¡°Well...doesn¡¯t this mean it¡¯s not your fault? You were right, you closed the case because you thought this Outer One girl didn¡¯t exist.¡± ¡°Mhm...but Claire still died. Also, I think the hallucinations might have been caused by the real killer himself.¡± ¡°I see, well...but still...do you intend on investigating more?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°But why? You don¡¯t get paid, you¡¯re outside of the law...you¡¯re ditching your real, actually paying clients for some mystery you¡¯re not involved with. Why?¡± ¡°Are we gonna start arguing?¡± I glare at her, my fork up and ready to enter into my mouth since a while now. She frowns, slumping into the chair, ¡°no...but I just don¡¯t get it.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to get it. Don¡¯t worry...this won¡¯t affect my main job. I postponed the appointments, I didn¡¯t cancel them.¡± ¡°Just promise me that you¡¯ll leave it be if it gets too hot.¡± I sigh loudly and nod, ¡°okay, okay...just don¡¯t worry, alright?¡± ¡°I won¡¯t¡­¡± A waiter comes to our table with a glass of wine, smiling at me. ¡°Would you and your girlfriend like a taste of our wine? We¡¯re trying a new supplier and we¡¯d like customer feedback.¡± ¡°Uh...we¡¯re-¡± ¡°Yes! Of course!¡± Elima stops me, pushing her glass forward, ¡°I¡¯d like to try it.¡± ¡°You?¡± The waiter asks me. I keep silent and blush. ¡°Yes, what about you, darling?¡± Elima giggles. I clear my throat, ¡°s-sure. Fine. Let¡¯s taste it.¡±
We get back in the car, Elima sighs contentedly, looking at me with a smile, ¡°well...that was a nice dinner. It didn¡¯t cost much either, no?¡± ¡°Hm¡­yeah, but I didn¡¯t like the crowd...they looked at me like I was some sort of mafia boss.¡± ¡°Hahahah! You definitely look like someone dangerous!¡± ¡°Really?¡± I touch my face, ¡°I think I look like an idiot¡­¡± ¡°An idiot that I like...very much,¡± she runs her finger along my shoulder, making my spine shiver. ¡°Just drive...I wanna get home.¡± The travel is silent, until Elima asks something else. ¡°So...what do you think about what that waiter said?¡± ¡°Hm?¡± ¡°Me being your girlfriend.¡± ¡°That¡¯s he¡¯s some sort of weirdo if he really thinks we¡¯re together.¡± ¡°Pfft! Aww, come on! We do look a bit cute together, right?¡± ¡°Elima...drop it,¡± I look away, feeling my ears starting to burn. ¡°Haha! Come on...you get embarrassed so easily?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just an embarrassing topic! Knock it off...¡± ¡°Alright...alright...then should I not stay at your place tonight?¡± ¡°Well...that¡¯s another thing...but...if you want, you can go home.¡± ¡°Haha, I¡¯m just kidding. I wanna spend the night with you.¡± ¡°Alright¡­¡±
She softly whimpers while she rocks her hips above me. I stare at the ceiling, the dim lights making it hard to observe. I feel her heart beating loudly against mine, her moans filling my left ear. But she notices it very soon, my touch isn¡¯t hungry, my breathing is steady. ¡°Edward...where are you right now?¡± She goes down from her own high just for me, stopping her movements. ¡°I¡¯m just thinking about Claire.¡± She groans, frustrated, ¡°it¡¯s not your fault...the visions weren¡¯t even related, right?¡± ¡°I know, but it still makes me feel weird for some reason. It hits harder than other cases. It was eerie...how she was having visions and then-¡± ¡°I¡¯m gonna kiss you if you don¡¯t shut up.¡± Her naked body, veiled by the darkness, is a bit more discernible as she raises herself with her hands. She looks at me fiercely...a look you don¡¯t wanna see from someone you¡¯re currently inside of. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°The killer came to her house, out of nowhere. There was nothing you could do. I¡¯ll let you pursue this...but only if you don¡¯t bring it up while we fuck.¡± ¡°Yes. Yes. You¡¯re right...I¡¯m sorry.¡± She sighs, melting her frustration, transforming it into something softer. She presses her forehead against mine, her bosom hitting my chest, reverberating her loud heartbeat as she begins moving again, ¡°just be here, with me, right now.¡± ¡°Yes...I¡¯m with you...Elima¡­¡± ¡°Good¡­¡± Pleasure starts taking over. I handle her skin with care, tasting its smooth texture, and I start to finally join her with rhythm. The afterglow should be enough to put me to sleep. But in my mind, that book comes up again. I should read it¡­
Monday. We just opened my office, Elima has everything ready and I¡¯m leaving my desk first thing to go to the boutique. ¡°You¡¯re good right?¡± I ask her as she sits down at her desk at the entrance, as always. ¡°Yes, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll handle the clients.¡± ¡°Okay, thank you...if it gets too much, tell me. Either I give you more vacation days or bump your paycheck. You shouldn¡¯t be doing this, and I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°I just told you! Don¡¯t worry!¡± Elima pats my back, ¡°just make sure to do what you promised, okay?¡± ¡°I will, I will.¡± My promise? Gather evidence and send it to Lowe as an anonymous tip. I just gotta hope they do something with what I find. I get into the car and start driving right away. Volume 1 - Chapter 9 I found Claire¡¯s Boutique address in her mail thanks to work-related letters. It¡¯s in a quiet street, at least when it isn¡¯t Monday morning...cars and people walking are everywhere, starting their different but similar day. I get into the shop, it smells like clean clothes. There¡¯s a nice lady waiting for me at the cashier, already smiling as she sees I go straight to her instead of looking around. ¡°Hello! Welcome to our boutique. How may I help you?¡± ¡°Detective D¡¯arbie. I¡¯m a private investigator working for the police. May I ask you some questions?¡± I show her my badge. She widens her eyes and closes her open hands. She also re-adjusts her posture. She¡¯s nervous. ¡°Sure! This is about poor Claire, right? The police came already, a couple of weeks ago...do you need anything else?¡± Interesting. They¡¯re investigating this. Good to know. But¡­well, a pair of human ears and human skill won¡¯t hurt a second try. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m here to revise everything that¡¯s been said, and I have new questions as well,¡± I reply, looking around, ¡°I wanted to speak to Claire¡¯s closest coworkers, her manager...anyone who has information about her.¡± ¡°Sure! The manager is in the back, and today...there¡¯s only two girls that share their shifts with Claire, they¡¯re setting up stuff in the storage room.¡± ¡°Good. Would you lead the way?¡± ¡°O-Oh, there¡¯s no need. Just come into the back and do as you please,¡± she moves aside and points at the open door behind her, ¡°the manager is upstairs right to the left...and the storage room is in front of you when you get in.¡± I sigh through my nose and chuckle, ¡°thank you. Very kind.¡± I nod and go through the door, giving her a last glance. She doesn¡¯t handle police pressure well. I understand her. I used to be terrified of cops too when I was young...they just always look like they¡¯re gonna arrest you.
I immediately find the manager in his office. It¡¯s a fit man in his thirties. Clean haircut, shaved beard. Doesn¡¯t look like the kind of person who would run a fashion boutique...but what do I know? ¡°May I help you?¡± He furrows his brows as soon as I get in with a slight knock. ¡°Detective D¡¯arbie. I¡¯m here to ask questions about Claire Eisern.¡± ¡°Oh, again?¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m a private human investigator. They want human hands on the case,¡± I lie, sitting down on a chair of the opposite side. ¡°I get it, I get it,¡± he stes down some papers, ¡°well, I¡¯m the manager...Mr. Hols. What do you need to know, detective?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to start with Claire¡¯s behavior prior to her death. A month before, to be exact.¡± ¡°I already told the other detective...she has always been quiet and kept to herself. We had no idea she was being stalked. We also didn¡¯t spot anyone stalking her. I would have noticed if my employee was harassed,¡± he says, sounding irritated, ¡°I took good care of her...and she didn¡¯t deserve to die. Not like that. But what happened, happened outside of here.¡± They didn¡¯t ask them if he knew she was schizophrenic. He apparently doesn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you if you noticed she was being followed,¡± I lean forward, joining my hands together. This is the mistake the police is making. Claire¡¯s visions weren¡¯t related to the stalker, if this is what they¡¯re even thinking. They also weren¡¯t the cause of her death. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. They probably were triggered by it. It¡¯s the other way around. Claire¡¯s stalking report to the police about the Outer One girl is a huge red herring. I need to think outside of this. ¡°I¡¯m asking you if Claire herself said or did anything unusual. Not other things or people around her.¡± ¡°I...I just told you, she was quiet, reserved. She got in, said hello to everyone, and then left. The only instance where she was a bit more open was with Linda, one of her closest friends. She shares a loft of shifts with her.¡± ¡°Where is Linda?¡± I ask him, standing up. He doesn¡¯t know anything. I need to move on. ¡°Downstairs in the storage room, you¡¯re lucky...she has a shift this morning,¡± he replies. ¡°Alright. Thank you, Mr. Hols.¡± In the storage room, I see two girls setting up boxes on shelves while chatting happily. As soon as they notice me, they look confused. ¡°Excuse me, which one of you is Linda?¡± Linda gives herself away since her eyes widen. I look at her and show my badge, ¡°I¡¯m a private investigator. It¡¯s for Claire Eisern¡¯s murder.¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± she looks at her friend, almost panicking. ¡°You¡¯re not in trouble. I just need your help.¡± ¡°S-Sure¡­¡± she nods, swallowing her anxiety, ¡°what do I have to do?¡± ¡°Just answer some questions. It won¡¯t take too long,¡± I say, ¡°in private,¡± I add, eyeing her friend. We go outside the storage room and stand in the hallway, looking at each other. I pull out my notebook and click my pen after asking her my question. ¡°Claire and I were friends, yes. But not that close...we usually ate lunch and chatted about common topics.¡± ¡°So you never were part of her private life?¡± ¡°Not really, no. She invited me to her home once, but that¡¯s it. I kind of feel bad now because...I¡¯m sure she wanted to be my friend, but I kept pushing her away. She acted weird sometimes, and I didn¡¯t really think we were going anywhere, even if she was friendly.¡± ¡°I see,¡± I nod. Linda suddenly seems lost in thought. She¡¯s withholding something. She bites her lip and looks down...and she also hugs herself. Before I can even begin to make her talk, she breaks. ¡°I saw her...in the bathroom. She took Haloperidol,¡± she shakes her head, ¡°I¡¯m so sorry...I should have told someone.¡± ¡°I knew that already, the police do too. Don¡¯t worry, her schizophrenia wasn¡¯t the cause of her death,¡± I reassure her with a gentle, ¡°but, now that we¡¯re on the same page...I want to ask you something else.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Did you see Claire interact with or just look at a certain customer in the shop? Maybe just a window shopper? The manager said you and Claire shared several shifts together, right? So try to think about it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, really...we get a lot of window shoppers every day, especially during weekends.¡± ¡°Claire is someone who keeps to herself, right? Someone so isolated and quiet would minimize interactions a lot. Can¡¯t you pinpoint an event where this wasn¡¯t the case?¡± ¡°Hm¡­¡± Her blonde hair, tied into a ponytail twirled around her fingers due to nervousness. Her blue eyes look around her mindspace while she thinks. ¡°I¡¯m sorry...I don¡¯t know anything. Claire was a mystery to everyone here.¡± Shit. I¡¯m not getting anywhere with this. Did Claire¡¯s killer really go unnoticed? Maybe I¡¯m thinking too hard about it...maybe this serial killer chose her at random the day before her death...maybe her visions don¡¯t matter after all. I rub my chin. Linda looks at me with a look that pleads me to let her go. I need to think, though. I can¡¯t leave like this, I need to be sure I squeezed this shop dry. ¡°Wait¡­¡± I mutter, ¡°Claire invited you to her house, right?¡± ¡°Yes. Once.¡± ¡°Tell me about that, please.¡± ¡°She simply suggested we drank a cup of tea together at her place. She wanted to be my friend, as I''ve said. I accepted that one single time, and then I just made up excuses,¡± she admits, looking rather remorseful. ¡°When did this occur?¡± ¡°About a few days before she died.¡± ¡°A few days? Why did she wait this long to show you her house? How long has she been trying to be your friend?¡± ¡°Same thing...she approached me shortly before she was killed...why?¡± I furrow my brows. Claire began befriending this girl after she started seeing the Outer One ghost...and she invited her to her house days before she called me and died. Was it a way to...feel safer? ¡°Did you...notice anything weird during that visit?¡± Linda¡¯s face gets a bit darker, ¡°well, yes...everything was weird about that. Reason why I didn''t like her after all.¡± ¡°Please, tell me everything.¡± Linda sighs, crossing her arms, ¡°she was very...distant. We talked about this novel...something like...black theatre? She was gushing over it and telling me I should read it, many times. Many...many times. After that, I managed to steer the conversation away from the book itself, and we started talking about literature in general. The weird part isn¡¯t her extreme fixation on making me read the book, though. What made me feel very uncomfortable was that she kept looking at the window outside, from her seat. She stared outside, at nothing. I turned around a couple of times, subtly, but nothing was there.¡± She was looking at the ghost, then. ¡°Did she look scared?¡± ¡°No...not at all. She was relaxed, I¡¯m positive. Whoever or whatever she was seeing...it wasn¡¯t real or a threat. I immediately thought it simply was her illness acting up...since I knew she took haloperidol. After a while of that, I simply was fed up and invented some lame excuse to leave.¡± I close my eyes after writing everything down. ¡°Anyways...this is all. I was creeped out very fast by her illness, I didn''t stick around...and I tried to cut ties with her," she says, looking down with regret, "and now...she''s dead." Linda doesn¡¯t realize it, but she helped me a lot. Something doesn¡¯t feel right about Claire¡¯s behavior. I need to get to the office and call Errilk...I need to get my hands on Claire¡¯s case, which is now not under my wing. ¡°Thank you, Linda. You¡¯re free to go. You helped me a lot, actually.¡± ¡°Will you find who killed her?¡± I stay silent for a few seconds, then I nod, ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡± Volume 1 - Chapter 10 When I get into the office, Elima looks at me with a surprised look. ¡°Already done?¡± ¡°Yes...the place was almost empty. Nobody goes shopping during a Monday morning,¡± I scoff, putting my coat on the hanger and approaching her desk, ¡°I found some useful stuff, though. I need to see through it. Did Errilk call?¡± ¡°Oh, yes. He mailed us some documentation you asked for, it¡¯s on your desk, sealed.¡± Good. The classified cases of this serial killer, I hope. I get into the office and close the door behind me. I see it...it¡¯s there, within my grasp. I¡¯m gonna find out what happened to the other victims, if there are any. I open the folder, and I pick up the only document where there is the most text.
To Errilk. The information you asked for cannot be accessed easily, it¡¯s not within my jurisdiction as the manager of the file storage. This is highly classified documentation, and I¡¯m not risking my life for a client. This is all I could find before I stepped out of my safety line. The victims so far are four. - Alice Dellis - Agathe Leuseur - Claire Eisern - Lila Berniech They are linked together, I¡¯m sure of it because they were all in the same pool. This is just the remnants of our homicide division before it was all classified. This isn¡¯t a police case, everything was wiped and nobody knows anything. This is probably something that¡¯s in the hands of the feds. My advice to you and your client is to step back before you both get hurt.
Slightly disappointed, I go over the rest of the contents in the folder. Four pictures, the pictures of the girls. And I only have information about one of them. The cases were classified quickly and wiped from the police¡¯s knowledge. This is serious, I¡¯m getting into something hotter than I thought. But this also means that I¡¯m right...there is a serial killer, and the feds are taking action already. I should back off. Elima enters the room. I put everything in the folder and sigh. ¡°So? Anything useful?¡± She asks me. ¡°Nothing. The cases...they were classified. They¡¯re probably in the hands of the feds by now.¡± Elima¡¯s face turns serious, ¡°then this is your wake up call. Move on.¡± ¡°Yes, absolutely,¡± I raise my hands, ¡°I¡¯m not stupid.¡± ¡°Good,¡± she nods, ¡°a couple of clients came in, and I booked appointments. I filled the holes you made this week...so...¡± ¡°Yes, don¡¯t worry. As I¡¯ve just said...it¡¯s time to give up,¡± I sigh, setting the folder aside. ¡°Hey...don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s okay,¡± she mutters, ¡°you¡¯ve done enough. If the feds are on it, no anonymous tip will be of any use.¡± ¡°True. You¡¯re right.¡± ¡°Of course I am,¡± she chuckles, ¡°now then, let¡¯s get back to work. The usual work.¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± I¡¯m disappointed. I got kicked in the stomach by the feds. There¡¯s not much I can do without risking my career. I need to get to my next client...I need to keep doing my job.
The day¡¯s over. Elima left early, she needs to take care of something at home. I¡¯m about to leave too. I¡¯m in my office, gathering my things. Before I can wear my black coat, I stare at the folder, closed...hoping for it to talk, to tell me more. I look at the phone next, intently. ¡°Ahh, fuck it.¡± I need to at least know this...I need to discover if my suspicion is right. It won¡¯t stop itching in my head¡­I need to check something before I go home and forget about all this. I dial Lowe¡¯s number. ¡°Hi Lowe.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been having a few clients, I don¡¯t have time for police work, even if it pays well.¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Mhm, yes...as soon as I have holes,¡± I clear my throat, ¡°listen, I need a favor. Claire Eisern didn¡¯t sign up a private investigation contract, but she did use up hours of my time, so I figured I¡¯d still write up a report and close the case, since my assistant remembered me it¡¯s still signed as open. I need just a little info from you, since Claire didn¡¯t tell me.¡± Lowe goes silent for a second. Yes, this case is sensitive. ¡°When did she exactly file the stalking report to the police before coming to a P.I like me and ask for my private help? I want to know how long she waited, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Yep,¡± I nod and chuckle. I hope she buys it. There¡¯s silence on the other side, but after some time...I hear her usual sigh, the sigh she makes when she¡¯s amused by the human detective she has been supervising. She sounds more amused than annoyed...I was right, she¡¯s biting. ¡°Thank you, thank you. You¡¯re the best.¡± th of September.> ¡°Okay, than you very much! See you at the station.¡± I slam the phone shut and stand up, my breathing gets heavier. Claire was killed the night between the 30th of September and the 1st of October. She filed the report the 27th...and asked for my private help the 30th itself. Why did she say they didn¡¯t believe her? Why did she say they weren¡¯t helpful? I know how the station works. They probably didn¡¯t even have to time to look at it, and she still asked for my help. But most importantly¡­ Why did she wait for the whole month to pass before asking to be protected from her stalker? I run my hands through my hair, thinking. Something doesn¡¯t add up, there¡¯s a hole in her story. Was she just so afraid and anxious that she didn¡¯t even have the courage to call the police? No...when she talked about that stalking ghost, she sounded outraged, tired. It¡¯s as if¡­ It¡¯s as if it started bothering her only after a whole month. I need to check her medical reports. Her doctor should still have them.
I get to his clinic, he closes at 7:00...it¡¯s 8:16. I hope he¡¯s still here. I try to open the door and miraculously, it¡¯s still open. ¡°We¡¯re closed! I¡¯m leaving! Come tomorrow!¡± I hear his voice as he makes noice inside his office, probably preparing to leave. ¡°I¡¯m not a patient, Doctor Bellingham.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± I get inside his office, slightly opening the ajar door. I smell coffee and heavy ink, tons of papers everywhere...the office is completely white, a good color for the maddened. He¡¯s an old man, white mustache and few hair, short. He doesn¡¯t look unhealthy, his job probably pays well. I show him my badge, ¡°I¡¯m Detective D¡¯arbie. I¡¯d like to ask you some questions about Claire Eisern.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you ask me enough already?¡± The police was here too. The feds are indeed taking all the right routes, I¡¯m impressed. ¡°That was Other One cop stuff, I have a private contract with her family,¡± I lie. ¡°Oh, I see, well in that case...I am not obliged to answer your questions.¡± Shit. I shouldn¡¯t have said that. What do I do now? I need him to talk. ¡°Look, I just need the family to have some closure. All I¡¯m asking is to look into her medical reports, so that they understand what their daughter was going through.¡± ¡°If they want the reports, they will have to come, not you. Alternatively, I¡¯d like to see your contract.¡± He¡¯s not budging. I check my watch and stall for a second. There¡¯s no other way, either this works or I¡¯ll have to threaten him. ¡°Look, I get it. You wanna respect that poor girl¡¯s privacy,¡± I step forward, ¡°the truth is...there¡¯s no contract. Her family barely acknowledged her death...a funeral didn¡¯t even take place. The only members she had left were her grandparents and, apparently¡­¡± ¡°Yes, she told me. They didn¡¯t want her because she was born through rape.¡± I widen my eyes. I had no idea. When I was postponing the appointments yesterday, I tried to call them, hoping they¡¯d know anything. They immediately hung up, asking me never to call anymore. So Claire lied, she wasn¡¯t on good terms with her grandparents. I bite my lips and clench my fists, ¡°I¡¯m doing this for her, doctor. I¡¯m not a cop...I¡¯m not working for anyone but myself. I just want to find out what happened to her and catch the bastard who¡¯s doing this to other girls like her.¡± He keeps silent, staring at me. He¡¯s listening. ¡°The cops won¡¯t do anything. We both know it.¡± ¡°Oh, I know that very well,¡± he sighs, ¡°fucking Other Ones. They keep us just for blood and jobs like mine, since no filth like them can be a psychiatrist." ¡°Yes. Which is why I¡¯m here. My next lead is her illness. I have a doubt I need to clear with her reports.¡± ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll give you a copy right away, just wait.¡± ¡°Thank you, Doctor. No word of this will ever be out.¡± ¡°Of course. We¡¯d both get in trouble,¡± he chuckles a bit more lighteartedly. After the printer is done, he gives me all the papers in a folder. ¡°Catch him, detective. That girl didn¡¯t deserve this...she had enough on her plate already.¡±
Back to the office, I immediately open the folder and spread everything on my desk. Time to discover more about Claire¡¯s illness. Her symptoms started out of the blue at the beginning of last year. She already lived alone by then, and upon a rough awakening filled with hallucinations and voices, she called the ambulance because she was terrified. She was assigned to this doctor immediately, who examined and diagnosed her with schizophrenia. The report states that no prior history of mental illness was recorded in her family, making the sudden onset even more puzzling. Claire herself had no notable psychiatric issues before this episode. According to the doctor¡¯s report, it is still unclear how or why Claire started having these symptoms only at the age of twenty-three. The newer records also say that her condition severely deteriorated and that her hallucinations got more violent, intrusive, and impairing. She described presences speaking in languages she didn¡¯t understand and hallucinations becoming more and more terrifying, probably a consequence of her own fears and thoughts. A higher dosage was recently assigned to her prescription, which made her complain to the doctor because it forced her to start her mornings in a cathartic state...reason why she couldn¡¯t socialize at work, I presume. The reports do not mention the White Maiden, or the novel. Last month¡¯s check-up didn¡¯t bring anything up, except this last paragraph: ¡°The patient, as of now, isn¡¯t able to function while off her medication. She keeps presenting symptoms like delirium and sometimes violent outbursts, becoming someone completely cut off from reality. Dosage cannot be lowered, as it could lead her to endanger herself.¡± My eyes shoot wide. I suddenly remember Linda¡¯s words.
¡°What made me feel very uncomfortable was that she kept looking at the window outside, from her seat. She stared outside, at nothing. I turned around a couple of times, subtly, but nothing was there.¡± ¡°Did she look scared?¡± ¡°No...not at all. She was relaxed, I¡¯m positive. Whoever or whatever she was seeing...it wasn¡¯t real or a threat. I immediately thought it simply was her illness acting up...since I knew she took haloperidol. After a while of that, I simply was fed up and invented some lame excuse to leave.¡±
Let¡¯s approach this logically. My theory is that Claire¡¯s sudden vision of this ghost was caused by a real stalker, the serial killer...it means that Claire herself saw him follow her. If my theory is right, the ghost was simply a way of Claire¡¯s mind to respond to the stress of being followed by a creepy man. She should have been stressed...or scared. Let¡¯s think back to a few days before her death, when Linda was invited to her house. Was she seeing something different at the window? Linda just said she wasn¡¯t even scared of it...so it must be an isolated case of psychosis, not related to the Outer One girl, The White Maiden. But wait...Claire told me that when she isn¡¯t on medication, she cannot interact with people. So why was she seeing a random hallucination if the two talked about books? Was she off her medication? No...I just contradicted myself. Claire¡¯s medical documents clearly state it right here...when she¡¯s off her meds, she acts confusingly, and she¡¯s not lucid at all. The two were talking about books, and Linda didn¡¯t notice any erratic behavior. She was coherent...so her medication was flowing through her veins. This means she was having a hallucination while she was on her medication, and the only hallucination she claimed to see while on meds is that girl, the White Maiden. She wasn¡¯t scared of her in that instance. But why? Was it because Linda was with her? Also...Claire, then, lied to me.
¡°Has the girl ever appeared in front of your house, then? I¡¯m far enough so that she doesn¡¯t notice someone in front of it, I don¡¯t see anyone so far.¡±
She told me she never saw the ghost at her own house, just when she was out and about. She lied to me in different ways and kept this stalking problem to herself until her last days of life from the police, from me, and her doctor. Was she in denial? Was Linda¡¯s presence at her house a last effort to grip reality? I just don¡¯t get it. Things are getting too confusing. But then again, I¡¯m trying to give a logical explanation to a case where the client is a schizophrenic. Why is she schizophrenic, anyways? Not even the doctor could pinpoint that in his medical reports. Claire¡¯s mother was raped, he said earlier. This could have meant something for her and her mother...and the way she grew up. I need to talk to her grandparents, whether they like it or not. There are missing pieces of her past that could lead me to the killer¡¯s motive since he assaulted her sexually before killing her. I grab my coat. I need answers. Volume 1 - Chapter 11 Their house is near the border too. A few streets away from Claire¡¯s house. Despite being so near, they cut ties with her...I find it sad. I didn¡¯t even have to knock on their door, her grandmother saw me from the window and immediately ran to the door. She opened it slightly, glaring at me suspiciously. ¡°May I help you?¡± ¡°Hello, I¡¯m-¡± ¡°I recognize that voice! Did you seriously come all the way here?¡± Her grandfather suddenly opens the door fully, pushing her wife back into the house. A tall, old man...skinny, with bloodshot eyes. His face is a whole frown that¡¯s probably been stuck there for years. ¡°Sir, I need you to-¡± ¡°Understand this, detective. My wife told you on the phone already...do not involve us with that girl¡¯s death. We have no idea what happened to her, and we don¡¯t want to know.¡± ¡°But you know what happened to her mother, don¡¯t you?¡± He falls silent, his frown growing fiercer, ¡°her mother was a slut. She was raped, and she kept the cursed child. We kicked her out of the house, and never heard from the two. Ever.¡± I furrow my brows. ¡°Claire told me she lived with you when she was twelve, and both her parents died.¡± ¡°A lie, that¡¯s a total lie¡­¡± he scoffed, ¡°the father was never found, since he was a random rapist...and I haven¡¯t spoken to my daughter OR my granddaughter in more than twenty years.¡± ¡°Why did she live nearby, then?¡± He looks surprised, ¡°did she? We didn¡¯t know.¡± I close my eyes and sigh, ¡°alright. I¡¯m done here.¡± ¡°Good. I don¡¯t want to see you here again.¡± I turn back and head to my car, brushing my chin.
Back to the office, I''m sipping on some whiskey as my brain cogs turn. She chose a house near her grandparents to feel...close to them. Claire¡¯s past is different than what she told me. What happened to her mother, really? I¡¯m trying to find a reason why she would be targeted by a serial killer. Maybe the sexual assaults of her mother and Claire¡¯s before her death aren¡¯t linked. Sex and lust are common amongst humans, after all. The thing is...this isn¡¯t the first lie Claire has piled up on her person, I¡¯m sure of it. The way she waited so long before reporting, the way she acted during her last days. There¡¯s something that Claire hid not only from me, no, she hid it from everyone. So, whether her mother¡¯s past is important or not, the killer could have chosen her with whatever she¡¯s still hiding beneath her grave with her. If I find that thing...I-¡­ The phone rings. Who is it? ¡°Hello?¡± Elima¡¯s disappointed voice comes out of a phone booth. I can hear the cars. ¡°Uhm¡­¡± I stay silent. ¡°Elima, I-¡± ¡°I just wanted to make sure of something! And I was right! Listen here, Claire didn¡¯t report the Outer One ghost girl stalking her until a few days before her death...and she lied about several things. It means that the police is not going to figure out anything out of her, and I wanted to-¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. She shouts, her voice blaring through the receiver, making me flinch. ¡°What does this have to do with Anna, Elima? No...not at all. She¡¯s not in my head right now.¡± Honestly¡­? I don¡¯t¡­ ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± A mutter comes out, shameful. I truly don¡¯t know. ¡°I just find this whole thing so creepy and mysterious that...I¡¯m drawn to it. It¡¯s interesting, it¡¯s challenging...it¡¯s different than the rest of the cases I tackle usually,¡± I confess. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I...¡± I glance at the scattered papers again, at the contradictions, the gaps in the story...I look like a madman. Why is this case eating at me so much? I don¡¯t know myself. It¡¯s weird. I shouldn¡¯t give a shit. ¡°You¡¯re right. This is enough...I¡¯m losing control,¡± I tell her, ¡°I¡¯m coming home now, will you be there?¡± She sighs, keeping quiet. She¡¯s thinking...bad sign. The idea of her disappearing from my daily life is...bad. I don¡¯t like it. It should be enough for me to stop. ¡°Okay, okay. Tomorrow...I¡¯ll give you all the clues and papers I have of Claire and we¡¯ll burn them together, okay?¡± Her tone becomes lighter, I chuckle, ¡°silly...you forgot about the hidden spare key?¡±
A month passed. My workflow is back, Elima¡¯s smile is back...and I¡¯m back working for the police. The serial killer never striked again, or at least...that¡¯s what the newspapers say. I stopped thinking about it, and I actually burned everything...just like Elima asked me. It¡¯s evening, we¡¯re closing up for the day. Elima walks into my office as I fix my coat. She giggles and places her things down, leaning against the desk. ¡°What? What¡¯s funny?¡± She shakes her head, biting her lip, ¡°it¡¯s just that...I¡¯m happy. You seem happier too.¡± ¡°Well...I guess,¡± I shrug. ¡°Let¡¯s go home, come on,¡± she gestured outside my office. I look at her and don¡¯t move, crossing my arms. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± she squints her eyes, ¡°what¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°Nothing¡­¡± I sigh, looking down ¡°it¡¯s just that, Elima...you¡¯ve been coming home with me a lot.¡± Our...complicated side sex thing started happening more and more often...she rarely goes back home. At first, I didn¡¯t think much of it, but it¡¯s been a while now, and she seems to live at my apartment. She also brought some of her clothes. ¡°And?¡± ¡°It¡¯s getting out of hand, don¡¯t you think? What do your parents say?¡± ¡°They think I¡¯m with a friend, an imaginary friend called Elaine,¡± she chuckles, stepping closer to me. She brings my arms down and leans against my chest, playing with my coat¡¯s button. ¡°They¡¯re going to find out, and they¡¯ll charge me with statutory rape,¡± I look away, trying to move her to the side. She doesn¡¯t budge, seemingly glued to me. ¡°I¡¯m twenty-four!¡± She pouts, "twenty-five in a week!" She adds while hitting my shoulder lightly, ¡°don¡¯t say creepy stuff like that.¡± ¡°I know but¡­¡± I groan, ¡°I¡¯m a bit iffy...you know? It¡¯s just that-¡± ¡°Oh, just shut up¡­¡± Seemingly overtaken by frenzy, she unbuttons my coat rapidly, kissing my neck with hunger. I try to stop her, chuckling nervously as I am pushed against the desk. ¡°Elima, come on...¡± ¡°I¡¯m gonna make you regret saying me staying over often is a bad thing¡­¡± she chuckles again, running her tongue across my ear, ¡°we¡¯re gonna do it here at the office, like a naughty couple.¡± ¡°No, wait¡­¡± ¡°The closed sign isn¡¯t on the door...a customer might get in¡­¡± she whispers, ¡°you should be quick and work with me, dear detective¡­¡± ¡°Elima, seriously...stop.¡± I place my hands on her shoulders and push her away. ¡°Why?¡± She stops, looking at me with sadness. ¡°You don¡¯t need to do this. I¡¯m okay.¡± ¡°Why does it always have to be for you? What if I want this?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ...don¡¯t know how to respond to that. Why would she want to do this with a man almost in his middle age? I exhale and finally speak, ¡°you deserve better,¡± I caress her cheek gently. ¡°Better than what?¡± ¡°Better than this...¡± I chuckle, gesturing to myself, ¡°really. I¡¯m not the man you think I am.¡± She shakes her head, smiling against my words, ¡°I¡¯ve been working for you for a while now. We had sex together an amount of times I can¡¯t even say out loud. I think I know you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s different, it¡¯s not the same as living with me and being so...attached. It¡¯s a dangerous thing, especially with me,¡± I retort, ¡°you¡¯re young, and you have so many places in your life that await just you. I-¡± ¡°I¡¯m exactly where I want to be, Edward.¡± ¡°You''re not..." ¡°Yes. You don¡¯t get to decide where I should be,¡± she whispers, ¡°and I can tell you like this too.¡± ¡°I like it for the wrong reasons. Now...get off me.¡± She disobeys, doing the opposite. She pushes herself forward, crossing a line we¡¯ve never crossed. She puts her lips on mine, kissing me for the first time in years. It was our only rule. No kisses. We aren¡¯t lovers, we are just two people with bodily needs. But I don¡¯t fight it. I let her do as she pleases for as long as she pleases...and then, the kiss breaks, leaving the both of us filled with emotion. ¡°What the fuck was-¡± ¡°I love you.¡± Her words ring inside of me, the last time I¡¯ve heard them was before my wife died of cancer, five years ago. I don¡¯t know what to say, or to do. I just stare at her, my eyes sting. She chuckles at my reaction, pressing her warm palm against my face. ¡°Nobody has ever cared for me like you do, Edward. My parents are abusive...I think you started noticing that. Reason why I¡¯m always with you. And...I don¡¯t have anyone else. Just you.¡± ¡°Elima...I¡¯m not-¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to do anything special. I just want to be with you, to support you.¡± I swallow my words, nodding obediently. ¡°I¡¯m half your age, I know. This is fucked up,¡± her lips tremble, ¡°but you¡¯re the only light I see¡­so...please¡­¡± I close my eyes, trying to suppress my shaking body. "I''m sorry Elima...I can''t..." She doesn''t reply. She shakes her head and leaves. I stand there, like an idiot. I brush my lips with my finger. Can I learn to love again? After losing who was most precious in my life? Can I learn to protect again, after failing to protect what I cherished? I don¡¯t know.