In the afternoon of Nova City, sunlight slanted through the dust-filmed windows of the Greyhawk Detective Agency, casting slanted patches of light on the floor. Ryan placed the last perfectly brewed cup of coffee on the desk of senior detective Marcus, and just as he straightened up, he was impatiently waved away: "Go organize yesterday's case files. Don't stand there in my way."
He nodded silently and turned toward the old, nearly collapsing desk in the corner. As the only intern at the Greyhawk Detective Agency, Ryan's daily life had almost nothing to do with the word "detective"—serving tea and water, organizing case files, running errands for photocopies, and occasionally enduring the teasing and orders from the senior detectives. In three months, he hadn't even touched a proper case. The only things he'd gained were perhaps a knack for brewing good coffee and a thorough familiarity with the location of every speck of dust in the office.
"Hey, the little intern is busy with chores again?" Another senior detective, Peter, leaned against the doorframe, flipping a coin in his hand, his tone full of mockery. "I think after this internship ends, you should just go work as a barista. It'd be better than idling away here."
Ryan's fingers tightened around the case files, but his face still wore a humble smile. "Detective Peter, you're joking. Organizing case files is also part of the learning process." He knew arguing with these senior detectives was pointless. In their eyes, he was just a green kid who got in through connections—if not for a distant relative pulling strings, he wouldn't even have this internship opportunity.
Peter snorted a laugh but didn't continue his taunt, turning and walking into the smoking area instead. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief and refocused on the case files. He had majored in criminal investigation in university and held an almost stubborn passion for detective work. The reason he endured this boring internship was his hope to one day truly engage with cases and realize his detective dreams.
The agency door opened, the wind chimes letting out a crisp ring that broke the room's dull atmosphere. Ryan looked up to see a well-dressed middle-aged man in a suit walk in, looking anxious, followed by two bodyguards in black suits. The man's forehead was beaded with sweat, and he clutched a briefcase tightly—clearly someone of importance.
"Excuse me, is this the Greyhawk Detective Agency? I need to report a case!" The middle-aged man's voice held a slight tremble as his eyes quickly scanned the office.
Peter and Marcus, who had been puffing away in the smoking area, immediately stubbed out their cigarettes and walked out, professional smiles plastered on their faces. The agency's boss, Old Grey, also emerged from the inner office. He wore a greasy patterned shirt, his belly straining the fabric, his stubble long untrimmed—he looked less like a detective agency owner and more like a street thug.
"Sir, please speak slowly," Old Grey rubbed his hands together, motioning for the man to sit, then threw a glance at Ryan. "Go make some coffee."
Ryan hurried into the tea room, brewing coffee while straining to listen to the conversation outside. From the man's account, he roughly understood the situation: the man's name was Wilson, a well-known wealthy figure in Nova City. His employer—another tycoon named Linton—had mysteriously disappeared from his home the previous night.
"Mysteriously disappeared?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Wilson, could you be more specific? Was he kidnapped, or did he wander off on his own?"
"Neither!" Wilson shook his head repeatedly, his tone growing more urgent. "Mr. Linton's villa has extremely tight security. There were no signs of forced entry on the doors or windows, and surveillance didn't capture any suspicious individuals coming or going. When I went to pick him up for work this morning, the villa was empty, as if he'd vanished into thin air!"
Peter and Marcus exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise in each other's eyes. A disappearance case with no traces whatsoever—this was their first time encountering such a thing. Old Grey stroked his stubbled chin, squinting in thought. "Mr. Wilson, this kind of case is a bit tricky. Did Mr. Linton display any unusual behavior before his disappearance? Or did he offend anyone?"
"There wasn't any unusual behavior, but recently, Mr. Linton seemed somewhat restless," Wilson recalled. "As for offending people... Mr. Linton is in real estate; it's inevitable he'd upset some, but it shouldn't have led to disappearance."
Old Grey nodded, asking a few more questions about Linton's social circle and financial situation, which Wilson answered one by one. Ryan walked out with the coffee, set the cup in front of Wilson, then stood behind Old Grey, listening quietly. He could sense this disappearance case wasn't simple, especially the "vanished into thin air" aspect, which was downright eerie.
"Alright, we'll take the case," Old Grey finally decided. "Marcus, take someone with you and go check the scene with Mr. Wilson."
Marcus immediately responded, "Yes, Boss." He turned to Peter, about to call him along, but Old Grey cut in: "Peter has other things to attend to. Let Ryan go with you."
Everyone was stunned, including Ryan himself. He looked at Old Grey in disbelief, wondering if he'd heard wrong. In three months, he'd never been involved in any case investigation. Why would Old Grey suddenly send him to the scene?
Marcus frowned. "Boss, it's not really appropriate to bring an intern to the scene, is it? What if he messes up..."
"It's fine. It'll be good for him to see how things are done," Old Grey waved a hand, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Ryan, learn well from Detective Marcus. Don't embarrass me."
Suppressing the excitement in his heart, Ryan quickly nodded. "Yes, Boss! I'll definitely do my best!"
Seeing this, Marcus didn't object further, though he shot Ryan a displeased look. Wilson urged, "Detectives, we should set off as soon as possible. The sooner we find clues, the better."
"Right, let's go now," Marcus picked up his coat and headed out first. Ryan hurried after him. As he passed Old Grey, the boss suddenly lowered his voice and said, "Be careful. This case isn't simple."
Ryan's heart tightened. He wanted to ask more, but Old Grey had already turned and walked into his office. Without time to dwell on it, he quickly caught up with Marcus and got into the luxury car arranged by Wilson. The car drove smoothly through Nova City's streets. Watching the scenery flash by outside the window, Ryan felt both excited and nervous. This was his first time truly engaging in case investigation. He silently vowed to seize this opportunity and perform well.
Throughout the journey, Marcus barely spoke, only occasionally asking Wilson for details about Linton's villa. Ryan listened attentively beside them, memorizing key information. After about half an hour, the car arrived at Linton's villa. Located in Nova City's affluent district, the villa covered a vast area, surrounded by high walls and a tight security system. Indeed, as Wilson had said, the security measures were extremely strict.
"Detective Marcus, this way please," Wilson led the two inside. The villa's interior was lavishly decorated, furniture neatly arranged, with no signs of struggle or disorder.
Marcus put on gloves and began carefully examining the living room. Ryan imitated him, donning gloves and cautiously observing the surroundings. His eyes swept every corner of the living room, trying to find any suspicious clues, but the room was excessively clean—aside from furniture and decorations, there was nothing unusual.
"Mr. Wilson, where is Mr. Linton's room?" Marcus asked.
"On the second floor," Wilson led them up the stairs to the master bedroom door on the second floor. "This is Mr. Linton's room. The door was slightly ajar when I found it this morning."
Marcus pushed the door open and entered the bedroom. Ryan followed closely behind. The moment he stepped in, he felt an inexplicable chill. The bedroom was similarly tidy, the bed neatly made, as if Linton had only stepped out briefly. But Ryan couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His eyes roamed the room, finally landing on the nightstand.
On the nightstand was a strange symbol. It was drawn with some black substance, about the size of a palm, its shape bizarre—like a mass of twisted mist, its surface faintly shimmering with dark energy. Ryan had never seen such a symbol before, and a strong curiosity surged within him.
"Detective Marcus, look at this," Ryan pointed at the symbol on the nightstand.
Marcus walked over. Upon seeing the symbol, his expression instantly turned serious. He examined it closely, frowning deeply, muttering something under his breath that Ryan couldn't catch.
"Mr. Wilson, have you seen this symbol before?" Marcus asked.
Wilson shook his head. "No, I've never seen this symbol in Mr. Linton's room."
Marcus nodded, took out a camera from his pocket, and snapped a few photos of the symbol. Then he said to Ryan, "Stay here and guard. Don't touch anything. I'll check the other rooms."
Ryan replied, "Yes, Detective Marcus."
After Marcus and Wilson left, Ryan was alone in the bedroom. His gaze returned to the eerie symbol. The dark energy on its surface seemed to have grown more intense. A powerful urge welled up inside him—he wanted to reach out and touch the symbol, to see what it really was.
He hesitated for a moment but ultimately couldn't resist his curiosity. Slowly, he extended his hand. The moment his fingertip made contact with the symbol, a tremendous force erupted from it, instantly pulling him in. Ryan felt his vision darken, his consciousness began to blur, and a strange, whispering sound seemed to echo in his ears.
Just as he was about to lose consciousness, he faintly saw Marcus push the door open and walk in. The look in Marcus's eyes was no longer the earlier impatience but filled with ferocity and murderous intent. Ryan's heart jolted. He wanted to cry for help, but no sound came out. He didn't know that he wasn't just entangled in a bizarre disappearance case—he was about to face mortal danger, and that eerie symbol would completely alter the course of his life.