The city was alive with silence. Not the kind of silence that comes from peace, but the one that presses against your chest, heavy and uneasy. Every alley seemed narrower than before, every shadow deeper. Even the flickered as if uncertain whether to burn or die.
Feste walked among the people, hood pulled low, shoulders tense. He could feel the city watching. Every corner, every wall, every whisper of wind carried eyes. He tried to ignore it. Tried to convince himself that he was just walking home. But his own heartbeat betrayed him.
The curfew announcement still echoed in his mind.
"Anyone outside after nightfall will be questioned."
Officers patrolled the square. Their boots struck the stones like warning drums. The crowd shuffled, fearful, quiet. No one met anyone else's gaze. Fear was a language everyone understood here.
Feste's stomach twisted. He smelled the baker's stall, warm bread, heavy air, yeast and flour. He had stolen bread once, long ago, when he was hungry enough to taste desperation. He fought for scraps. He fought to survive. And now he walk streets haunted by whispers, pretending I belong.
He took a slow breath. The mist swirled around his legs. The smell of river mixed with smoke and wet stone.
I don't belong here.
I never did.
And yet... I follow these streets, drawn into this hunt, into this nightmare.
Two children played nearby. Wooden sticks clashed, their laughter sharp and bright in the dimming light. They shouted as knights defending invisible castles. Feste stopped and watched.
I never laughed like the. Never a moment to play. The slums taught me nothing but survival. And now... now I chase shadows that kill women and leave riddles.
He continued.
Every steps felt heavier, weighed down by memory and fear.
I should be somewhere safe. But I can't leave this. Not now.
The streets narrowed.
Lamps burned lower, their flickers almost shadows themselves. He could hear distant voices, the low hum of a city that refused to sleep. Somewhere a dog barked, sharp, echoing against stone wall.
Feste's hands tightened into fists.
I can feel it here.
The darkness.
The presence. Something waits, something watches and it knows me.
He slowed. The fog thinned in one alley, reavel a shape leaning against the wall. Pale face, dark eyes, a smile stretched unnaturally wide.
Who is that?
Feste's pulse spiked.
He froze.
I've been waiting for this.
I know it.
I feel it.
The city held its breath.
Every nerve screamed: run, hide, escape.
Every thought whispered: stay, watch, learn.
Feste's fingers grazed the hilt at his belt, though he had no weapon drawn. His eyes never left the figure in the shadow.
The figure stirred. The painted smile remained, calm, deliberate. No sound came from it, yet Feste felt the hum. A presence that pressed against his skin, low and threatening. His body tensed. It's him. This is him.
But...
why speak to me?
Why not attack
Every instinct screamed danger. Every thought screamed curiosity. And Feste knew, deep down, he would follow, even into the darkest corners of this city.
The figure leaned closer, but not threatening. Its painted smile caught the weak light of the lamp, gleaming unnaturally. Feste's chest tightened.
Who is this?
A clown?
The clown's voice was soft, almost casual.
"You look lost."
Feste's throat ached. He forced to answer.
"I'm not."
The words felt hollow even as he spoke them.
The clown tilted his head. "No one ever admits it. Not in a city that feeds on fear. No where blood drips through cracks no one notices."
Blood...
Feste's stomach truned.
I've seen enough already. I've smelled enough. And yet... I can't look away.
The figure shifted slightly, leaning against the wall as if it belonged to the shadows themselves. Its eyes, darks and sharp, scanned him like a predator.
I can feel it.
Qi.
Something unnatural.
Feste's hands clenched at his sides. Every nerve screamed to run. His mind raced.
This isn't the slums. This isn't a petty thief or a gang fight. This is... something else. Something bigger. Something I've been running toward without knowing it.
The clown's lips moved again. "Tomorrow someone will vanish. And no one will see them until it's too late."
Feste froze.
The words sunk into his chest like stones.
Too late... Again?
The figure straightened, stepping slightly into the dim light. Its grin never faltered.
Why does he speak to me?
Feste's eyes narrowed.
He tried to respond, but his voice caught. Nothing came out.
His heart thundered in his chest, loud enough to feel like it might burst.
The clown tilted his head once more.
"Look closely, boy. Watch everything. Hear everything. One day, it will be too late even to prepare."
To late... I can't let it be too late.
Feste's thoughts collided with panic. I've failed before. I've been late before. I won't fail again.
I can't.
The figure shifted, gliding back into the shadows, silent as smoke. Feste took a step forward. But it was gone. They alley was empty. The hum of the city returned, normal and cruel.
Feste's knees weakened. He sank to the wall, chest heaving.
What just happened? What did he mean? I... I can feel something. Something powerful. Something wrong. Qi?
He pressed his palms to the stone wall. The chill bit into his fingers.
Feste rose slowly, scanning the empty alley. Every shadow seemed to pulse, every stone whispered.
He left a message... a warning. Bur I don't understand it yet. Not fully.
And that scares me more than anything.
A breeze passed. The street lamps flickered. And for a moment, Feste could swear he saw that grin again, just for an instant, before it vanished completely.
His steps carried him back to the barracks. Quiet. Careful. Every sense alert. The city watched, waited and whispered. Amd somewhere, just beyond his reach, the clown smiled.
Feste's boot echoed softly on the stone steps. Each step felt heavier than the last, carrying the weight of what he had seen. The streets behind him were quiet, but he could still feel it, the presence lingering, like smoke that refuses to disperse.
I need to tell someone. I have to warn them. But... how? How do you warn someone about shadows that move on their own, smiles that kill, riddles that hide in blood?
He entered back and the air was thick with incense and quiet murmurs. Derick, noticed him immediately. His eyes were sharp, scanning for any hint what Feste had encountered.
"Back so soon?" Derrick asked, voice neutral, but his gaze betrayed his concern.
Feste's voice was quiet. "There's... someone. In the alley.
A man.
A Clown.
He spoke... he said something about tomorrow."
Derrick's expression hardened.
"Tomorrow?" He motioned to Feste to follow him to the planning room. The others were already there, waiting around a map spread across a table.
Spear and the others spoke of the missing women, of patrols, of what little evidence had been collected.
Derrick leaned forward, pointing at the map. "Feste, you and I will patrol tonight. We need to be ready. We have a clue, but it's thin. We'll start here."
Feste nodded.
I have to be ready.
The night fell quickly. Mist curled around the streets, swallowing corners and distorting shapes. Feste and Derrick moved in silence. Every footstep, every breath, was calculated. The city itself seemed to breathe around them, alive, watching, judging.
A scream cut through the darkness. High, desperate and sharp. Feste's heart jumped. They ran toward it, but the alley was empty. Only the wall remained, streaked with fresh blood. The letters were written in crimson: a riddle, twisted and cruel. It hinted at a future act, a date in a week's time.
Feste pressed his hand against the.
I can feel it. Qi... faint, but there. Someone left a signature. Not just blood. Energy. Presence. He's close. I can sense it. Not clearly, but enough.
Derrick examined the riddle, nodding slowly. "He's taunting us again."
Feste's boots struck quietly on the wet cobblestones as he followed Derick through the twisting alleys. The fog hugged the buildings, curling like fingers. Every shadow seemed to breathe. Every distant sound was amplified in the silence.
He's here.
He's close.
I cann feel it in the chill, in the way the mist moves.
The clown... the Ripper....
he's waiting for us and I can't see him yet.
Derrick's latern threw long beams into the darkness. Shapes twisted in the light, then vanished. Feste's heart thumped loudly.
Top quiet.
Too still.
That's when he strikes.
A sudden noise, a metallic clatter. Feste spun, eyes scanning. Nothing.
Only the mist and the cold air.
He's mocking me. He knows I'm here.
I can feel the energy, faint bjt alive.
Qi.
His presence.
It's... wrong.
Dangerous.
And yet, I can't look away.
They turned a corner. The alley opened slightly. Feste's breath caught. A figure stood at the end, motionless, painted smile in the dim light.
It's him.
He waits.
And he knows I see him.
But... why isn't he moving?
Derrick whispered, "Stay close. Eyes open."
Feste nodded. Every muscle tensed. Every sense alert.
This is it. One wrong step, and it's over. I have to feel him before he strikes.
Qi... I can feel the hum. Not strong, but enough to know he's dangerous. Too dangerous.
A flicker of movement.
Too fast.
Too quiet.
The figure shifted, vanished into the darkness again.
Damn it. He's toying with us. He knows we're watching.
They moved slightly. Then a sudden scream echoed from a distant alley, sharp desperate. Feste spun, but the alley was empty. The mist swallowed all signs of life. Only the silence remained.
A shadow passed behind a corner. Feste ran, Derrick beside him. The alley ended abruptly. The figure was gone. Only the faint whisper of movement, like smoke in the wind.
"He's gone... for now. But he'll return. And next time, we won't be alone."