The man remained silent for a moment, allowing Da Dang Ha to process the information. Then, he continued:
"Check the victim's phone. There must have been a channel the killer used to communicate, and a phone is the simplest way."
Da Dang Ha snapped out of his trance. He shook his head, rubbing his tired temples. "I had my men search the body, but we found nothing—not even a pack of cigarettes or a lighter. Nothing in the immediate vicinity either."
"Look again. A killer like him will definitely leave a trail."
Acting on this, Da Dang Ha ordered two subordinates to scour the area around the crime scene for the device. Nearly an hour later, they returned with a transparent evidence bag containing the victim's phone. It was an obsolete black model with a small screen and a physical keypad. Da Dang Ha put on his gloves, kept the mysterious man on the line via his own phone, and spoke hurriedly:
"We found it. It was taped to the underside of the living room sofa. Let me check the call history." He scrolled through the logs. "Four unknown numbers called Vuong Hoang today. The first was at 1:00 PM; a call came in and Vuong Hoang answered. The conversation was short—only 17 seconds. The second call was at 1:22 PM from a different unknown number, lasting 32 seconds. At 2:36 PM, another number called for only 13 seconds. Do you need me to investigate each registered owner?"
The mysterious figure gazed out of his wood-framed window. The leaves swayed gently in the wind, creating a peace so profound it felt like a warning. He replied in that same ice-cold tone:
"No need. They are all spoofed numbers from the same person."
"How can you tell?"
The man stood and sat on the windowsill, his face half-shrouded in shadow despite the soft indoor light. He tapped the glass lightly.
"Based on the duration. Each call was within a 30-second window. It's impossible to guide a victim to a specific 'execution site' in such a short burst, so the killer fragmented the instructions. He is meticulous; he leaves no traces. Judging by the challenge he issued, he has a detailed plan with a specific goal. And his motive... is to 'reclaim justice'."
He paused, his expression darkening slightly as his eyes swept over the bookshelves.
"Steel yourself. This is likely the start of a serial killing spree. As for the location data and call contents, hand them over to Lang Dinh—my close friend."
The call ended, leaving the inspector's office in silence. Da Dang Ha was surprised to hear the name Lang Dinh; the man was a renowned figure in the investigative world.
Shortly after, Lang Dinh's contact info arrived via ZaChat. Da Dang Ha sent a friend request, which was accepted almost instantly. Following instructions, he forwarded all the phone numbers Vuong Hoang had interacted with that day.
Within 15 minutes, Lang Dinh sent back the analyzed data. His movements were swift and efficient—the mark of an expert—yet there was a sense of detachment in his work. Unlike the mysterious man's idealistic pursuit of justice, Lang Dinh seemed to view it merely as a task to be completed. Leaning back in his leather chair and tossing a stylus in the air, Lang Dinh smiled as he spoke over the phone:
"This guy is a pro at counter-surveillance. He anticipated every move—from using area code masking tools to burner numbers. Interestingly, this guy... seems to have a thing for criminals. Or perhaps it's just a coincidence that Mr. Vuong there was 'selected'."
Lang Dinh tilted his head to hold the phone between his shoulder and ear. His hands moved like lightning across his black iPad; the coding screen vanished, replaced by audio files. He chuckled. "But... don't worry too much, Uncle. Even though I can't trace the GPS, I have this..."
Lang Dinh sent the recorded conversations between the killer and the victim to Da Dang Ha. The inspector clicked through them. As the voices played, the killer's final words stood out: "100 meters away—5 meters from the signpost."
This triggered a realization in Da Dang Ha. If 100 meters was the distance to the staged crime scene, what was the significance of the "5 meters from the signpost"? Why not just say 105 meters?
Sensing a chilling connection, Da Dang Ha opened the map of the crime scene on his iPad. He froze. Exactly 100 meters from where the body was found sat a house belonging to a family that had recently moved in. It could have been a coincidence, but remembering the slip of paper with the number "100" in the killer's dossier, it felt hauntingly deliberate.
04:14 AM, September 22, 20CH. Police units were rapidly deployed to the house 100 meters from the scene. In this rural area, houses were sparsely distributed. They arrived at a simple white house with a front yard, two floors (a living area and a second floor with three bedrooms), and an attic.
As the perimeter was secured, Da Dang Ha and an officer began questioning the couple living there. Meanwhile, a rookie intern from the Gia Uyen Provincial Crime Prevention Bureau—Phan Thap Hoa, 23 years old—headed to the attic, his flashlight cutting through the dark corners.
In a deep corner of the attic, Thap Hoa's light landed on a cardboard box that had been slightly pried open.
Inside was a man's severed head. The eyes bulged, pupils constricted in a final moment of terror. Flies and ants crawled over the eyeballs and clustered around the corners of the lids. Blood had seeped slowly from the base of the neck, soaking a corner of the box.
The gruesome sight nearly made Thap Hoa retch on the spot. He scrambled back down the stairs, his voice breaking the silence:
"Chief! We found it!!"