Birds chirped outside my window.
Annoyingly cheerful.
The kind of cheerful that felt personal—like the universe had decided today was a great day to test my patience.
buzz
buzz
buzz
I groaned, rolled onto my side, and fumbled blindly across the bed until my fingers finally closed around my phone.
"Hello…?" I mumbled, voice rough, half-asleep, half-dead.
"Do. You. Know. We. Have. A. Meeting. At. Riverbay. City. Right, sweety?"
Jack's voice slid through the speaker—slow, exaggerated, and dripping with a very intentional kind of evil.
I squinted at the ceiling. "Uh—yeah," I said, pushing myself up. "And what's the time?"
There was a pause.
A dangerous pause.
Then—
"IT'S FXCKING NINEA.M. AND YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AT EIGHT A.M. COME. RIGHT. NOW."
I yanked the phone away from my ear.
Oh my God.
Bless my ears.
He shouted so loud I swear I felt an imaginary earbleed forming.
"Sob… sob…" I muttered dramatically, rubbing my temple. "Alright! Alright! I'm coming!"
The call ended before I could add anything else.
Typical Jack.
I got ready in record time.
Black winter long-boot high heels—sharp enough to kill someone if necessary.
A black over-the-knee skirt.
A warm white sweater underneath.
Long black coat pulled snug around my shoulders.
A white scarf wrapped neatly around my neck.
High ponytail.
Sharp eyeliner.
I stared at my reflection for a second.
Yep.
That's your girl—crime-scene ready.
When I stepped outside, a sleek black BMW waited at the curb, engine humming softly like it was alive.
"…Wow," I muttered. "Okay. Fancy."
I slid into the backseat. The driver didn't look back. No greeting. No acknowledgment. Just straight posture, neutral expression, hands perfectly aligned on the wheel.
A robot.
Definitely a robot.
The car moved smoothly, gliding through the streets as the city slowly shifted around us. Morning fog clung low to the roads, blurring streetlights and shadows together. Shops were opening. People walked fast, heads down, unaware of how close they always were to danger.
##Riverbay City
Riverbay City looked nothing like the postcards.
Tall buildings leaned over narrow streets, their glass windows streaked with rain and age. Neon signs flickered even in daylight, reflecting off wet asphalt in distorted colors. The river cut through the city like a dark vein, slow and silent, mist rising from its surface as if it was breathing.
The air smelled like rain, metal, and something old.
Something buried.
This city didn't sleep.
It watched.
We arrived at the police station just as rain began to hammer against the windows, loud and relentless, like it wanted inside.
Inside, the evidence room was harshly lit. Too bright. Too cold. Evidence boards covered every wall—photographs, strings, notes, time stamps.
Victims: 6
Killer's mark: a small black lantern placed beside every body
Six victims.
Six lanterns.
Zero leads.
And this was different.
Different from the killings in Korea. Different from anything we'd seen before.
Fu Geng spoke first, adjusting his glasses as he leaned closer to a photo.
"Same kill pattern. Same time of night. But look at this—" He pointed. "The lantern wicks are burned out. Like they were lit right before he left."
Yuri's voice followed, calm but heavy.
"So he watches them die. He waits for the flame to finish."
Jack crossed his arms, jaw tight.
"This isn't just a killer. It's ritual."
Noah pointed at another photograph.
"Victim four was stabbed in her own living room. Windows locked. Nobody heard anything. You can't just appear and disappear like that."
Silence fell as our eyes shifted to Victim No. 6.
A surgeon.
Daniel Rowe.
Something was lodged in his mouth.
A torn page from an old book.
Noah frowned. "Where did that come from?"
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then—darkness.
The power went out.
A metallic clink echoed down the hallway.
Something had been dropped.
"Guns out," Noah ordered sharply.
We rushed into the hallway, weapons raised, footsteps echoing against concrete walls.
At the far end stood a figure.
Raincoat.
Hood pulled low.
A black lantern glowed in their hand—
a red flame flickering inside like a dying heart.
Not gonna lie.
He was terrifying.
Jack shouted, "Freeze! Hands where I can see them!"
The figure didn't run.
Didn't speak.
Instead, they slowly lifted the lantern—
—and pointed it directly at Anna.
Then they whispered, voice low, broken, familiar in the worst way:
"You were supposed to stop me… like last time."
Anna froze.
Eyes wide. Breath caught.
What the heck?
Last time?!
Jack turned sharply. "Anna… what is he talking about?"
Her voice cracked. "I—I know him."
Silence.
Nobody moved.
Girl—
YOU KNEW HIM?!
The lantern shattered.
Glass hit the floor.
The flame died.
And just like that—
The figure was gone.
Vanished like smoke.
On the floor where he had stood, words were written in ash:
"SHE STARTED THIS."
"SHE WILL END IT."
We all turned to Anna.
Yuri whispered, horrified, "Anna… who are you?"
I blinked.
What?
You guys have been together longer than me. You should know each other.
Meh.
Uselessies. Tsk.
Anna stepped back, heart pounding.
"I think—" Her voice shook badly now. "I think the killer is someone I once tried to save."
Jack and I screamed at the same time:
"DARK ROMANCE?!!"
Yuri and Fu Geng snapped together, "BE SERIOUS FOR ONE FXCKING TIME!"
Oops.
They're angry.
Meh. IDC 😑
Narrator:
Well well.
What a twist.
A killer who doesn't just murder—he performs.
A lantern that burns with meaning.
And a teammate who knows him—personally.
What happened between them?
Who was he before he became this?
And what kind of saving creates a monster instead?
Think about it.
Imagine it.
Because whatever this past is…
It's about to burn everything in its path.
Maybe in the next chapter…