2009
Lucerne, Switzerland.
Lucerne—known for its serene lake, wooden bridges, and snow-capped mountains.
But in the northwest corner of the city, away from tourists and postcards, stood a small government building.
Federal Criminal Archive – Subdivision C.
Officially labeled as a "low-activity investigative post."
But anyone who had been inside knew better.
This place wasn't silent—it just waited.
It waited for someone to see what had been hidden for years.
The post was once manned by one person.
Julian Meier.
Detective.
Investigator.
A man whose intuition outweighed procedure.
Julian followed rules—but he also looked beyond them.
He knew that not every truth could be found in a file.
Subdivision C's responsibility was simple yet grim:
Review old, unresolved cases.
Cold cases.
Archived evidence.
Cases everyone else had long forgotten.
At the beginning of June, Julian had requested this post himself.
His reasoning was simple:
"The cases no one wants to see… are the ones still breathing."
But after a few months, things began to change.
He stayed late into the night, reading files alone.
Security logs recorded him inside past 11:30 PM.
When the night guard asked if everything was alright, he simply said:
"Not everything wants to be found."
August 14, 2009.
At exactly 11:40 PM, Julian was seen for the last time on CCTV.
He looked straight at the camera.
No fear.
Only resolve.
The next morning—
Julian Meier did not show up at the office.
His badge.
His firearm.
His notebook.
All recovered inside Subdivision C.
The man himself?
Vanished.
Officially, the reason stated:
"Mental stress led to voluntary disappearance."
The strange part—
No body was found.
No suicide note.
No investigation.
The post remained vacant from that day onward.
No one wanted it.
Those who tried would leave within two weeks.
Some resigned in three days.
Everyone said the same thing:
"After 11:30… something feels wrong."
17 years later
2026
Lucerne.
Light snow fell across the silent city.
The lake mirrored the mountains, still and calm.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate here.
Standing before Subdivision C was a new man.
Raphael Senn.
Detective.
Investigator.
A man unafraid to ask questions.
A man who mistrusted silence.
His transfer file noted:
"High analytical skill. Minimal fear response."
Raphael knew why no one wanted this post.
He knew its history.
Yet, he had come.
The door opened to the smell of dust and old paper.
An oppressive stillness filled the air.
Raphael stepped inside slowly and shut the door behind him.
His eyes fell on the faded nameplate on the wall:
JULIAN MEIER
Lead Investigator (2007–2009)
He paused, staring.
"Missing," he whispered to himself.
The first file he opened was from 1994.
Status: Unsolved.
The second: 1987.
Status: Unsolved.
The third file contained Julian's handwriting:
"These cases are connected.
Not by people.
By time."
Raphael furrowed his brow.
At that moment—
The clock read 11:28 PM.
The lights flickered once.
Raphael rose from his chair.
Windows closed. No breeze.
Yet, the file pages stirred on their own.
An old case file slid off the desk.
The cover read—
CASE CODE: C-17 / 2009
Inside, a photograph.
A man with weary eyes.
Name—
JULIAN MEIER
And beneath it, in red ink, one line:
"If you're here in 2026,
I didn't leave.
I stayed."
The clock struck 11:30 PM.
The lights went out.
And in the darkness, Raphael understood—
This post wasn't cursed.
It was unfinished.
And Julian Meier was still very much a part of this case.