The wind stirred his coat as Luca stood beneath the stars, still as stone. He hadn't blinked in nearly a minute. Something about the night felt off, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for him to notice it.
His dark eyes traced the sky, unfocused. Despite the glow of golden streetlamps and the sound of laughter drifting down the avenue, none of it reached him. He stood out—not just because of his stillness, but because his sharp eyes and black hair marked him apart from the fair, freckled faces passing by.
His shoes clicked softly against slick cobblestones. The earlier drizzle still glinted faintly in the light. He moved without urgency, as if pulled by habit more than thought, and pushed open the familiar door of the café.
Warmth and the scent of roasted coffee wrapped around him like an old blanket. The old man behind the counter looked up.
"Good evening. The usual?" the café owner asked, his British accent crisp and low.
"Yes. One black coffee without sugar."
He ordered a cup of bitter black coffee, his usual.
The bitterness helped when his thoughts refused to settle, like tonight. Cup in hand, Luca stepped back into the cool air. The door chimed softly as it closed behind him. Across the quiet street, a car waited. Brown sat in the driver's seat, engine idling, headlights dim.
He crossed over and slid into the passenger side.
Brown steered his car onto the street. The tires hummed softly against the pavement as he followed his usual route through the familiar neighbourhood.
Luca didn't speak. His mind was elsewhere, drawn into the pieces of a puzzle he hadn't yet solved. Several people had disappeared over the past six months. No witnesses. No patterns. No bodies. Most left nothing behind.
But this one had. A single, handmade medal, misshapen and unmarked, was found on the floor of a locked apartment. No fingerprints. Just that strange object and a door locked from the inside.
"You take your time like an old man," Brown said, glancing over with a grin.
Luca took a slow sip. The bitterness helped him focus.
"Precision is never rushed."
Brown snorted. "You and your poetic nonsense."
But he didn't answer. He was already deep in thought.
Brown watched him for a second, then broke the silence.
"You got any ideas?"
"... This situation presents a contradiction," Luca murmured, his gaze fixed beyond the windshield.
Brown raised an eyebrow. "A contradiction? How so?"
"The others vanished without a trace. But this time, someone left something behind. That medal... it doesn't fit."
"You're saying it's staged?"
"No. A staged scene would be cleaner, more deliberate. This feels accidental, like we're seeing something not meant for us."
Brown let out a sigh, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Probably belonged to the victim. We don't have time to chase ghosts, Luca. Two more went missing last week."
Luca didn't blink. "Even a shadow," he said softly, "can point toward the light."
Brown gave a tired chuckle. "There you go again. Philosopher mode. You should get some rest. Don't forget you've got class in the morning."
"I'm aware," Luca replied, voice low. His eyes shifted to the passing lights outside the window.
Brown glanced at him. "Luca… why do you keep doing this?"
There was a pause.
"You're brilliant. You could be saving lives in a hospital. But instead, you throw yourself into this mess."
Luca looked down into his cup, watching the black surface ripple faintly with the motion of the car.
"No one ever found her," he said quietly.
Brown frowned. "Her?"
Luca shook his head. "Forget it."
"Hah… you're giving me more grey hairs, you know that?" he said, sounding tired.
"... I will try to be more careful."
The car fell into silence again. The city faded behind them, streetlights giving way to the darker quiet of residential roads.
Brown pulled up in front of a six-story building, Luca's apartment. The windows glowed faintly behind drawn curtains.
Despite being a full-time medical student at a top university, Luca had taken a part-time job in investigations two years ago.
Brown had never understood why.
Back then, he had appeared out of nowhere. No experience. Just a sharp mind and a quiet desperation. He could've lived safer. Simpler. Yet he'd chosen to remain in the middle of this mess.
Luca stepped out of the car, still lost in thought. Brown watched him for a moment before calling out.
"Alright. Go upstairs and get some real sleep."
"I'll try."
Brown didn't push further.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon. We'll go over everything together, alright?"
"Understood, Mr. Brown," Luca replied with a slight nod.
Brown sighed again. "You know you can call me by my first name, right?"
Luca cracked the faintest smile. "It wouldn't suit you."
Brown laughed. "Fair enough. Good night, Luca."
"Good night, Mr. Brown."
The door closed with a soft thud, and the car pulled away into the quiet.
Luca stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring up at the building like it might answer something. But his thoughts spun in circles, restless. Sleep felt distant, like something that belonged to someone else.
He climbed the stairs. The stairwell lights flickered overhead, casting faint shadows against concrete walls. There was something comforting about their inconsistency, something that felt honest.
Inside, his apartment was still clean. A space that looked lived-in, but never alive. Every item had a place. No mess, and tidy.
He sat down at his desk and set the coffee beside a photo tucked beneath a paperweight. Three faces looked back at him, frozen in time but familiar. A girl with a bright smile in her twenties stood between two boys at the festival. One of them was him, a few years younger, with a hesitant grin.
Brown's voice echoed in his memory:
"You could be saving lives in a hospital. Why throw yourself into danger like this?"
Luca had never told him the full truth.
The bitter taste of coffee lingered on his tongue, grounding him. He reached into the drawer, the one he'd promised himself he'd never open again.
Inside: a compact case with a stun gun, collapsible baton, handcuffs, and gloves.
As he pulled on the dark clothing, he whispered softly, as if to someone long gone:
"... I will avenge you."
Before stepping out, he picked up his phone and typed a message. Brief but informative. Ready to send it to Mr. Brown or the local authorities in case anything goes wrong. A small contingency, but necessary.
The city was growing quieter. But for Luca, the night was just beginning.