The knock echoed sharply against the tall wooden doors of the Casello mansion—
A moment later, the heavy door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with silver coils of hair pinned into a bun and a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her brows furrowed the moment she saw the visitor.
"Lorenzo? You here at this hour?" she asked, voice warm but worried.
Lorenzo, in his usual half-crumpled coat and boyish grin, tipped his hat with a theatrical flourish. "Good evening, Mrs. Casello. Apologies for the lateness, but I'm here to call for the Detective. There's been… another murder. At the graveyard. Same as the last."
Her face blanched. "Another murder? Oh dear Lord. That's the third this month!" She clutched the doorframe, shaking her head. "What is happening to this town? God knows what's going on in his mind…"
"We're all worried, ma'am," Lorenzo said gently. "But if anyone can get to the bottom of it, it's Victor Sir."
As if summoned by name, a tall figure emerged from the hallway behind her.
Victor Casello
He stood tall, every inch wrapped in tailored elegance—a deep maroon coat hung over broad shoulders, the high collar brushing against the sharp line of his jaw. His dark hair was tousled back in an artful mess, as if even the wind obeyed his aesthetic. Sharp cheekbones, eyes so beautiful as if they would gleam in moonlight and lips that rarely smiled.
He didn't rush. He never had to. The weight of the room shifted around him like he carried the gravity of the case in his coat pocket.
"What's happened?"
"There's been another," Lorenzo said quickly. "Same place. The graveyard."
Victor's brow arched—calm, composed, but unmistakably intrigued. "Fascinating."
His mother's lips trembled. "Victor, please—just be careful. This town… something isn't right."
"I will, Mom," he said softly, touching her shoulder. "Now go back to bed. I'll be late."
She sighed, eyes glassy. "Take the extra keys. And promise me you'll come back."
"For sure,Mom."
Moments later, Victor and Lorenzo were seated across from each other in a horse-drawn carriage, the wheels rattling over cobblestone as fog pressed against the windows like a living thing. The gas lamps lining the streets flickered in the mist, and Thornfield passed by in muted shadows and quiet dread.
"You know Sir," Lorenzo said, fidgeting with his gloves, "we really ought to put a lock on that graveyard. Or maybe set it on fire. Symbolic and practical."
Victor didn't smile. His eyes stayed fixed on the window. "Graveyards aren't dangerous. What leaves them is."
The carriage stopped with a jolt. They stepped out into the cold breath of midnight, where townsfolk had already gathered like moths to something dark and unspeakable.
Lorenzo clapped his hands. "Move aside, move aside! Let Sir get through!"
The crowd parted reluctantly, whispering amongst themselves as Victor moved past them like a shadow in command
"Where's the body?" Victor asked, scanning the cemetery gates.
Lorenzo scratched his head. "I… didn't ask. Honestly, sir, there were too many people and—I may have gotten distracted"
Victor exhaled, almost a sigh. "You forgot?"
"I forgot," Lorenzo confirmed with a wince.
Victor said "I'm afraid we have to search the whole graveyard now."
"At this hour?"
"Yes."
"Sir… that's a lot of ghosts."
"Shut up, Lorenzo," Victor muttered. "And get to work. If you see anything, call me."
"Don't leave me alone!" Lorenzo whined. "At least give me the carriage driver! Or a torch! Or a priest!"
But Victor was already walking deeper into the graveyard, his coat fading into the mist.
Lorenzo stood at the edge of the gravestones, arms wrapped around himself, muttering, "Wonderful. Just wonderful. Me and the dearly departed, on a moonlit stroll. What could possibly go wrong?"