(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Rivermoor City...
Guard Headquarters...
Investigation Room...
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of mana.
One of the guards—an older man with magic attuned to living residue and decay—held his hands over the covered evidence.
A soft glow spread from his palms as he focused while his grimoire was flipping, eyes closed, brow furrowed.
-Frown.
"...."
After a long moment, he opened his eyes as he spoke slowly.
"…This hand belonged to a man,"
The captain looked up at once.
"..."
"A man?"
The guard nodded with serious expression on his face.
-Nod
"And based on the remaining vitality traces, he would have died around the same time as the woman."
He hesitated for a moment, then added,
"Possibly even earlier."
Silence fell over the room.
The captain stared at the table as he muttered in shock.
"That's impossible, The killer never targets the men. Never has."
He said it with certainty—the kind built over years of reports, patterns, and assumptions.
Then he froze as his eyes widened while he muttered to himself quietly only he could hear.
"…Unless,"
Unless they were wrong.
Unless the men had always been there—just never found. Never identified as victims. Never noticed.
The room felt colder.
"...."
"...."
"...."
"What if,"
The captain continued, voice low as he looked at his squad members,
"the women weren't the only targets? What if they were simply… the message?"
The guard's face paled thinking about how crazy a person must be to kill just to sent a message.
Ben stood a little apart, arms crossed, watching the realization settle in.
'Finally,'
He thought in silent while looking at the partial palm on the table.
The pattern wasn't incomplete.
It had been misunderstood.
"They focused on the women because that's what he wanted you to see,"
Ben said calmly breaking the silence and the heavy atmosphere settled in.
"The shock. The outrage. The fear."
The captain turned to him slowly as he asked.
"And the men?"
Ben's gaze dropped briefly to the covered evidence as he spoke seriously.
"...."
"Disposed of, Quietly. Efficiently. No spectacle."
The captain clenched his jaw while muttering how wrong their direction was until now in investigation.
"All this time… We've been chasing the wrong picture."
Ben exhaled through his nose, a restrained sigh while thinking.
-Sigh
'No wonder they never caught him,They were solving the story he wrote for them.'
He looked back up.
"From now on,"
Ben said, voice steady as he looked at the guard captain's eye,
"every missing man connected to a victim matters. Every unexplained absence. Every gap you ignored."
The captain straightened.
"...."
"…We need to start over,"
Ben shook his head slightly as he corrected the captian.
"No, You need to start properly."
Around them, the investigators moved with renewed urgency, pulling records, maps, names—years of overlooked data suddenly heavy with meaning.
The investigation room filled with movement once more.
Scrolls were pulled from shelves.
Old ledgers were reopened.
Names—long forgotten or dismissed—were written again, this time in fresh ink.
A list of missing men began to take shape.
At first, it seemed scattered. Unrelated. Coincidental.
Then patterns emerged as one of the guards said slowly, eyes scanning the board,
"For every incident… there's at least one missing man."
The captain stepped closer. Men who lived nearby. Men connected to the victims.
Friends. Relatives. Co-workers.
Some had vanished shortly before the women were found.
Others disappeared the same night.
None of them had ever been confirmed dead.
None of them had ever been found.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The room went silent as the implication settled while the captain finally broke the silence as he spoke in low voice.
"…They were all targets, We just never knew."
Ben watched the realization deepen.
In this new light, the past three years looked very different while another guard added.
"This wasn't random, The women were chosen because of the men."
The captain nodded slowly, then turned sharply to his team as he started giving the orders.
-Nod
"Start digging into the connections, Every relationship. Every betrayal. Every rumor that was dismissed."
He paused for a moment.
"I want to know exactly how each woman was tied to the missing men."
The guards moved at once, energized despite the late hour.
Departure with the immediate tasks set, the captain turned to Ben.
"We'll continue first thing in the morning, Thank you—for seeing what we didn't."
Ben inclined his head.
"You're on the right path now. Don't lose it."
They parted ways shortly after.
Dockside Tavern...
The tavern was quieter than before.
Ben climbed the stairs to the small room he had rented, exhaustion finally catching up to him.
He closed the door behind him and leaned briefly against it, eyes shutting for just a second.
Two days without sleep.
Two days of search.
He sat on the edge of the bed, removed his coat, and let out a slow breath as he thought.
-Sigh
'Morning will be worse, But clearer.'
He lay back and closed his eyes, the city's distant sounds filtering through the window.
NEXT DAY...
Dawn crept slowly across Rivermoor, pale light spilling over tiled rooftops and narrow streets.
The city looked almost peaceful in the early hours, as if the night's fear had been nothing more than a bad dream.
At the top floor of a modest barber shop near the harbor, Jack returned home.
He paused at the window, looking down at the closed tavern across the street—the one beside the theater.
Its shutters were still drawn, silent after the long night.
For a brief moment, something like disappointment crossed his face.
He had spent the night there. Listening. Watching. Enjoying himself.
"…Such a shame,"
He murmured softly.
The morning sun touched his face as he turned away.
Jack removed his coat and hat with deliberate care, setting them aside.
The monocle followed, placed neatly on the small dresser.
What remained was an unremarkable man—well-groomed, tidy, forgettable.
Downstairs, the barber shop waited.
He descended the steps, unlocked the door, and stepped outside.
The street was beginning to stir—fishermen returning, merchants preparing their stalls, the city slowly waking.
Jack flipped the wooden sign hanging beside the door.
CLOSED became OPEN as he smiled faintly.
"Time to work,"
He said to no one in particular.
Inside, mirrors gleamed. Chairs stood ready.
Razors were laid out with obsessive precision.
Everything was clean. Perfect.
To the city, he was just a barber starting his day.
No one noticed the way his eyes lingered on passing couples.
No one questioned the calm with which he welcomed the morning.
By the time the sun climbed higher, the shop was alive.
Customers filtered in one by one—dockworkers, merchants, clerks—each greeted with the same polite smile as Jack tied aprons and guided them into chairs.
The mirrors reflected an orderly world: clean tiles, gleaming steel, steady hands at work.
Jack moved with practiced ease.
His Dagger Magic flowed subtly, fingers reshaping into fine scissors, razors, trimming blades—each tool precise, controlled.
Hair fell in neat lines.
Beards were shaped to perfection.
Not a single cut went wrong.
A professional. The bell above the door chimed again.
A few city guards stepped inside, laughter light, armor relaxed as one of them said.
"Morning, Hope you've got time for us."
"Always,"
Jack replied warmly, inclining his head.
"Please—sit."
They settled into the chairs, boots clinking softly against the floor.
As Jack worked, the guards spoke freely, voices low but unconcerned as one guard said.
"Captain says they've got a real lead now, Yeah,"
While another added with a sigh.
-Sigh
"Turns out the killer's been taking men too. Not just the women."
Jack's hands paused—just for a heartbeat.
So brief it went unnoticed.
"…Men as well?"
Jack echoed mildly, as if surprised.
"That's what they say, And apparently there's a Royal Knight involved now. Capable one, from the sound of it."
While the guard replied with confidence.
Jack resumed his work, blades whispering softly.
Inside, something stirred.
"...."
'Interesting,'
He thought while his eyes gleamed in curiosity.
A Royal Knight. And the truth—finally surfacing.
He masked the flicker of amusement behind a courteous nod as he spoke lightly.
-Nod
"Well, I do hope they catch him soon. Bad for business, all this fear."
The guards chuckled, agreeing, unaware of the calm precision hovering just behind them.
-Chuckle
"...."
Jack listened. Observed. Learned.
All while shaping hair and steel with equal care.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)Thanks for reading the chapter!
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