Time: 10:00 PM
Location: Unknown
Weather: Heavy Rain
The sky was weeping. A relentless, heavy rain lashed against the rusted metal roof of the isolated room, drowning out the world outside. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp concrete and fear.
A man sat bound to a wooden chair, his hands and legs secured with rough hemp rope. A thick strip of duct tape covered his mouth, and a dark blindfold stole his sight. He was trembling, his muffled whimpers lost in the roar of the storm.
CREAK.
The sound of a heavy door opening echoed through the room. Footsteps followed—slow, deliberate, and calm.
A young man, barely twenty-three years old, stepped out of the shadows. He was a silhouette of darkness, dressed entirely in black from head to toe. A black hoodie was pulled low over his brow, and a mask covered the lower half of his face. Only his eyes were visible—cold, piercing, and terrifyingly steady.
Hearing the footsteps, the man on the chair began to thrash violently.
The young man walked up to him without a word. With a swift, cold movement, he ripped the duct tape and the blindfold away.
The captive man gasped for air, coughing violently for two straight minutes. His lungs burned as he stared up at the dark figure looming over him.
"Who... who are you?" the man wheezed, his voice trembling. "What do you want from me?"
The young man didn't answer. A low, haunting laugh escaped his throat—a sound that sent shivers down the captive's spine.
"Listen, kid," the man stammered, trying to regain his composure. "You want money? Tell me how much! I'll give you whatever you want. Just let me go!"
THUD!
A sharp, powerful punch landed squarely on the man's jaw, snapping his head back.
"Can't you stay quiet for just a moment?" the young man whispered. His voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of a death sentence.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, worn-out diary. For a long moment, he stared at a page in the diary, his eyes scanning the details with chilling focus. Then, slowly, he reached back into his jacket and pulled out a long, razor-sharp hunting knife. The cold steel gleamed under the flickering dim light.
"What are you doing?" the man shrieked, his eyes bulging with terror. "What are you going to do to me?!"
The young man leaned in, the tip of the blade touching the man's temple.
"Nothing much," the youth replied softly. "I'm just going to liberate your sinful soul from this wretched body."
He began to trace the blade down the man's face, moving from the corner of his eye, down his cheek, and finally resting the cold edge against his throat. The man froze, his breath hitching. Suddenly, with a flick of the wrist, the blade bit deep.
"No... no! AHHHHHH—!"
The scream was cut short. A spray of crimson hit the floor, mixing with the shadows. The young man pulled the blood-stained knife back, his expression hidden, but his eyes remained as calm as a still lake.
Next Day
The morning sun hit the windows of a small, cozy Pizzeria. Inside, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the darkness of the night before.
A young man was busy cleaning. He moved with a quiet, polite efficiency, wiping down the tables and polishing the glass windows until they sparkled. He wore thick-rimmed glasses and a simple uniform, looking every bit like a hardworking, humble student.
DING!
The bell above the door jingled. A man in his sixties, with a kind face and a lively spirit, walked in.
"Ren!" he shouted, his voice booming with fake anger. "Did you sleep here again last night?!"
Ren Valerius looked up, a soft, innocent smile spreading across his face. "Morning, Uncle Zane! How are you feeling today? And yes, I slept here. The rain was too heavy last night, so I thought it was better to stay."
Uncle Zane sighed, though a smile played on his lips. "Oho! I remember the rain. Though, to be honest, I took my sleeping pills and was out like a light. I don't remember much of anything else! Haha!"
Ren chuckled softly. "Even at your age, Uncle Zane, you're still as funny and strong as ever."
"Forget about me," Zane waved a hand dismissively. "Tell me about your fever. Is it gone?"
"It wasn't a fever, Uncle," Ren replied, adjusting his glasses. "Just a minor headache. I'm perfectly fine now."
At that moment, the television mounted in the corner of the shop flickered with a BREAKING NEWS alert.
"...A gruesome discovery was made at 6:00 AM this morning near the lake. The body of a local businessman was found, brutally murdered. Police report that the victim's throat was slit with a sharp, professional-grade weapon..."
Uncle Zane stopped laughing, his face darkening. "This is horrible. May God grant his soul peace. The world is becoming so dangerous... I don't know what the police are doing for our safety."
He turned to Ren with genuine concern. "Ren, you be careful out there, okay? Don't go getting into any trouble or fights."
Ren watched the news report for a second longer, his reflection in the glass window showing a calm, unbothered face. "Don't worry, Uncle," Ren said, his voice smooth. "I can take care of myself."
"Good lad. Now hurry up, or you'll be late for your classes," Zane said.
Ren smiled, looking like the perfect, obedient boy. He untied his apron, picked up his backpack, and adjusted his glasses. He looked like any ordinary student.
"See you in the evening, Zane Uncle," Ren said, pushing open the glass door.
But as he stepped onto the sidewalk, he froze.
WOOO-wOOO!
The sharp chirp of a siren echoed through the street. A police cruiser was parked right in front of the shop, its red and blue lights flashing rhythmically. Two officers stood there, looking stern.
Ren felt a wave of anxiety. Like any student who stayed away from trouble, the sight of the law made his stomach churn. As he tried to walk past them with his head down, one of the officers looked up.
"Hey, you! Young man!" the officer called out, gesturing for him to stop.
Ren's heart suddenly quickened and...
[ Chapter 1 Ends ]