The café smelled like coffee… and unfinished thoughts.
Not the cozy kind.The heavy kind.
Hawk sat near the counter, jacket off, sleeves rolled up.That posture meant one thing.
Work had begun. 🚔
Barfi walked straight to him. No hesitation.
"Hawk," he said quietly."What happened?"
Hawk didn't look up from the file in his hand.
"Give me hours."
Not minutes.Not excuses.
Hours.
Barfi nodded.
He had learned something important lately.
When truth is cooking… don't lift the lid too early. 🍲
Hours Later 🌆
The café was darker when Hawk returned.
Streetlights flickered outside.Walter pretended not to listen from behind the counter.Dr. Putin sat quietly, observing like a chess player waiting for a move. ♟️
Hawk sat across from Barfi.
Fingers locked together.
"I checked everything," Hawk said."College records. Old complaints. Police files."
Barfi listened without blinking.
"Professor K had a clean image," Hawk continued."Respected. Awarded. Protected."
He frowned.
"On paper… it's hard to believe he'd do something like that."
Barfi's chest tightened.
And then—
He saw him.
Professor K stood beside Hawk.Close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
Hawk felt nothing.Saw nothing.
The professor looked at Barfi.
Not angry.Not ashamed.
Calm.
Too calm.
"I want justice," he said.
Barfi didn't flinch.
"For what?"
The professor's smile disappeared.
"My stepbrother."
The café lights flickered softly. 💡
Barfi leaned forward slightly.
"What about him?"
The professor's eyes darkened.
"He destroyed me," he whispered."He used me."
The air felt colder.
Walter shivered dramatically.
"Why did the temperature drop? Did someone open the freezer?" 🥶
No one answered.
The professor leaned closer.
"He needed my fall."
Then—
He vanished.
Like smoke pulled through a crack in reality. 🌫️
The Stepbrother 📂
Barfi looked back at Hawk.
"There's more," he said slowly.
Hawk's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Talk."
"Professor K mentioned a stepbrother," Barfi said."A sealed complaint involving him."
Hawk's expression changed.
Not disbelief.
Recognition.
"…That name came up once," Hawk said carefully."A withdrawn complaint. Never pursued."
Dr. Putin leaned forward.
"Withdrawn by whom?"
"The accuser," Hawk replied."Suddenly. Without explanation."
Walter whistled softly.
"That smells worse than expired milk." 🥛
Hawk stood up.
"Give me time."
Barfi nodded again.
Waiting had become part of his skillset.
The Informer 🕵️
Later that night, Hawk returned again.
This time, his face was sharper.
"I talked to an informer," he said quietly."And the picture isn't clean."
Barfi felt Professor K appear again behind him.
Listening.
"Professor K's stepbrother was always jealous," Hawk continued."Career. Respect. Marriage."
He paused.
"And he had… eyes on Professor K's wife."
Walter made a face.
"Dirty eyes?"
"Very," Hawk replied flatly.
Barfi's jaw tightened.
"There's more," Hawk said."The girl who accused Professor K…"
He tapped the file.
"She met the stepbrother multiple times. Same café. Before the accusation. After it too."
Silence fell like a curtain. 🎭
Professor K appeared again beside the table.
Calm.Broken.
"I want justice," he repeated.
Barfi met his gaze.
"For what really happened."
The professor nodded once.
Then disappeared.
The Plan ☎️
Hawk leaned back slowly.
"When someone does something wrong," he said,"they fear one thing."
Barfi waited.
"Exposure."
Walter leaned forward eagerly.
"Ooooh. We're doing psychological warfare. I like this arc." 😌
Hawk ignored him.
"How about we call the stepbrother?"
Barfi's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And say?"
"That we know," Hawk said calmly."Not everything. Just enough."
Dr. Putin nodded thoughtfully.
"When guilt feels cornered, it panics."
Hawk tapped the table.
"With Professor K's help, you'll give me details. Private details. Things only someone involved would react to."
Barfi understood immediately.
"You want him to think the dead are talking."
Hawk's smile was thin.
"I want him to talk."
Professor K appeared once more near the wall.
"Do it," he said softly.
Then gone.
Fear Belongs to the Living 🕶️
Hawk picked up his phone.
"I'll arrange the call tomorrow."
Walter rubbed his hands dramatically.
"Ah yes. Emotional interrogation. My favorite genre."
Dr. Putin sighed.
"Please do not narrate this like a show."
Barfi remained quiet.
He looked toward the space where the professor had stood.
"We'll find the truth," Barfi said softly."If it clears your name… or condemns you."
Because one thing was clear now.
Ghosts were not always innocent.The dead could lie.The living could lie louder.
And the truth?
The truth often hides between them.
Outside the café, traffic moved normally. 🚗
Inside—
A trap had been set.
Not with bullets.Not with violence.
But with fear.
And fear…
belongs to the guilty. 👁️