Kit moved silently along the edges of the street, invisible, a whisper in the crowd. He didn't approach Niran, not yet. Tonight was about observation, collecting details, mapping habits. A hand lifted to adjust the hood over his head as his mind raced through calculations: timing, pace, likely routes home. Each moment fed the obsessive need to protect Krit by controlling the world around him.
"I will ensure nothing touches him… nothing," Kit whispered. His eyes flicked to the streetlights reflecting off the wet asphalt, each reflection a reminder that he was always watching, always waiting.
....
Meanwhile, Krit Veerayut arrived at a quiet rooftop garden above the city, a rare escape from the noise below. He often came here to think, to observe, and tonight he felt the weight of the murders pressing against the edges of his mind.
Pha appeared beside him, leaning casually against the railing. "You look like you're planning a war," he said with a smirk. "Or maybe just plotting how to predict the next murder victim."
Krit's gaze didn't waver from the streets below. "Patterns exist, Pha. The trick is to see them before others do."
"Patterns, right," Pha muttered, shaking his head. "You're obsessed."
Krit allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Perhaps. But obsession can be useful."
Pha's eyes followed him silently for a moment. He knew Krit too well. Beneath the calm, controlled demeanor, there was a mind that noticed everything, remembered everything, and understood more than anyone wanted to admit.
....
Back in the streets, Niran arrived home safely, but not without feeling the subtle impression of being followed. He shook his head, dismissing it. Perhaps he was just imagining things. Perhaps the city had simply begun to feel stranger than usual.
Kit lingered a few blocks away, unseen. He cataloged the route, the timing, the obstacles Niran had to navigate. It was subtle interference, unnoticed by the boy, yet crucial in Kit's obsessive planning. Every choice Niran made, every detour, every glance over his shoulder, it all fed Kit's conviction that he alone could maintain control.
"Soon," Kit thought, voice low and deliberate, "you will realize I am the only one keeping you safe. Everyone else… they don't see what I see."
....
The next morning, Krit reviewed reports with a keen eye. Another murder , the fifth in a month had occurred. The victims seemed random, yet something nagged at him. Patterns, subtle but undeniable. A choice of location, time, the victim's movements before the incident…
Pha appeared, sprawled across a chair. "So, our killer is clever, yes?" he teased, tossing a pen. "Doesn't he know we're onto him?"
Krit's eyes flicked toward him. "We're not. But observation is key. Soon, the pattern will reveal itself."
Pha chuckled, though a faint unease lingered in his expression. "You always say that. But maybe you're the only one who can see what others miss."
Krit didn't answer immediately. He studied the data carefully. There was a rhythm here a thread only he could perceive. And for the first time, he realized the thread might lead closer to someone he knew.