At the Tavern
Arthur dreamed of the events from two years ago.
—Arthur!! You! You bastard!
My mother screamed as she held me, the building's wreckage collapsing around us. Her expression disturbed me—pure, genuine rage. Her plan, meticulously crafted over three years, had been ruined. I know… I could've killed them all effortlessly. I could've blown up the building without ever stepping inside. But… what would be the point? My world would just return to that melancholic hue—a dull, colorless world, faceless, empty. So dying with her wasn't so bad. But sometimes I wonder… if my father hadn't died… would everything have been different?
Arthur wakes up.
"The mana is chaotic… So, someone found out about the tavern? How interesting." A wide grin spreads across his face. The game he set up two years ago had finally been discovered.
Arthur gets out of bed and begins his routine once more. He looks into a mirror and carefully shapes a gentle smile on his face.
"Right. I should wait for the day of the contest. What a shame… I won't get to savor the taste of terror this week. After all, I need to prepare for the competition." Arthur licks his lips, eager to meet the one who deciphered his clue.
—I hope you can show me "life." Don't disappoint me.
---
At the Precinct
Melissa analyzed the documents relentlessly. She had stayed up all night studying, ignoring her own health.
—Miss, you should rest a little.
Melissa just presses a hand to her forehead.
—That child… even knowing about death, he wasn't bothered. He felt free. How… how could someone do something so brutal to a child?!
She felt powerless. If she hadn't been so hasty, maybe he would've survived.
—Put a bounty on his head.
Luke hesitates.
—Miss, we don't have any photos or even hints about his appearance.
—Just put out the bounty. Label him as a madman. Explain it well—and alert the press.
Luke nods and leaves the room.
"The one who crafts time in the darkest light."
—What the hell does that mean?! "The one who crafts time"…
"It can't be literal—it must be a metaphor. 'The one who crafts time'… Wait, what if it's a clock? The clock tower in the center!"
Melissa quickly organizes her desk, grabbing a notebook and pen.
"Clock tower… darkness… 'the darkest light'… Darkness must refer to night. 'The darkest light'…"
She stands up and grabs a calendar, scrutinizing it.
"The darkest light… It can only mean one thing—the full moon. 'The one who crafts time in the darkest light'… Clock, night, full moon."
—Ah… (Laughs)
Melissa collapses onto the floor, relieved. The weight of the boy's words had finally lifted.
"Only three days until the full moon… All I have to do is wait."
---
Three Days Later
The three days passed quickly. Anxiety gnawed at Melissa—the fear of failing to decipher the clue in one night made her increasingly nervous.
Night fell. The moonlight illuminated the tower. All the officers and detectives gathered, searching every inch. Melissa examined the clock tower meticulously, comparing it to a photo from three years ago. After countless minutes, she noticed something—a reflection at the very top. She climbed up, finding a magnifying glass. The moonlight refracted through it, pointing toward a building in the distance—one with a missing roof tile.
*"A detail too subtle to notice casually."*
She carefully removed the magnifying glass, storing it as evidence, then descended using mana to slow her fall.
—Did you find something?!
Melissa smirked, handing him the magnifying glass.
—Yes. Pack up—I'm going alone. I can't risk putting you all in danger.
She scaled the house and found a hidden box beneath the roof. Inside was another box. When she opened it, there was only a letter.
*"Coordinates? But these lead back to the clock tower… Why would he do that?"*
—Listen! Search every corner—no matter how small. The next clue is here!
They scoured every tile, every stone, every tree, looking for any hidden cavity or irregularity.
Hours passed. Dawn approached. Exhaustion set in—until a shout rang out.
They rushed over to find Luke on the ground, grinning.
—Luke?!
—I found it!
He removed a tile, revealing another beneath it.
Melissa was confused.
—Since you're not from this city, you wouldn't know. Normally, there's cement under tiles—but another tile beneath? That means this place was altered.
Her eyes lit up. She ordered them to help, and they tore up the second layer—revealing wooden planks beneath. Melissa channeled mana into her fist and shattered them, exposing a staircase.
They descended cautiously. Every step was calculated. They reached a door. At her signal, they prepared to strike.
She opened it—
One by one, the lights flickered on.
Eyes widened. Some vomited. Others turned away. Melissa collapsed, retching.
The room was a nightmare.
All the missing victims were there—but in the most brutal way possible. Piles of bones. Blood-smeared walls. Bodies chained up. Organs—dehydrated, rotting—displayed in jars. The stench was unbearable.
And in the center of the room, on a pedestal inside a glass jar, was a letter.
Trembling, Melissa approached it. She grabbed the letter and read:
*"Hello, hello! Did you like my gift? ^-^ Took me two years to prepare it. What did you think of our little game? I'll be so happy when I find out you completed it. I hope you entertain me. With love, your beloved killer <3"*
Melissa hurled the jar to the ground with all her strength.
—YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU DARE CALL THIS A FUCKING GAME?!
Her breathing was ragged, her eyes bloodshot with rage.
She forced herself to calm down.
—Give them a proper burial. Find their families. And… compensate them for each death.
---
Back at the Precinct
Melissa barely stepped inside before calling for Luke.
—Miss? Are you alright?
—Have you ever wondered why we never heard about the disappearances? Even if we're from another kingdom, it's too suspicious. Only one thing comes to mind—someone altered the records on purpose.
—Now that you mention it… if we hadn't dug deeper, we'd never have found them. They were buried deep. Only one person could've done this—the head of the information department. The one you removed from office, remember?
—What was his name?
Luke scratched his head.
—I don't recall well. It's been years since I last saw him. I only remember his daughter's name. From what I heard, his wife died two years ago.
Melissa stood up, dark circles under her eyes. She was exhausted—but her determination burned stronger than ever.
Luke led the way.
The End
Thank you for reading this far.
Happy Birthday, Nick!!