The man had just returned from work.
His jacket still hung over his shoulders, and he hadn't even taken off his shoes yet. He walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out a bottle of cold drink. With sluggish steps, he headed toward his apartment balcony.
The night air felt cool. He stood there, sipping his drink, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness weighing down his eyelids.
Absentmindedly, his gaze drifted downward.
And that was when he saw it.
At the side of the road, directly below the building where he lived, stood a man in a dark robe. His face was concealed behind a mask, his body almost completely motionless, as if merged with the shadows of the night. In his hand, a sharp object reflected a faint glimmer from the streetlights.
The gaze behind the mask seemed to pierce through the darkness, staring straight at him.
The man froze.
Cold sweat instantly soaked the back of his neck.
Slowly, the robed figure raised his hand.
One finger extended.
Pointing upward.
Pointing directly at him.
The man's heart pounded violently.
"He's counting the floors…"
The thought crossed his mind without warning. Fragments of memory from the strange test he had taken not long ago surfaced unbidden. Back then, it had felt like a joke. Now, its meaning changed completely.
Without thinking further, he turned around.
His steps were hurried, nearly stumbling as he reached the door. His hands trembled as he twisted the lock, making sure it was tightly secured. After that, he grabbed his phone.
His fingers shook as they tapped the screen.
Emergency number.
Beep. Beep.
No connection.
He stared at the screen, eyes widening. No signal. No connection.
His breath caught in his throat.
Quickly, he approached the door and peeked through the peephole. The hallway outside looked empty. Silent. Too silent.
He slowly backed away, staring at his phone again.
Still no signal.
"Damn… this isn't normal," he muttered softly.
For the past few months, news about serial killer had kept appearing. The victims were random, the locations constantly shifting. And from what he had just seen, the man below was very likely the same person.
That realization made his throat go dry.
He decided to stay awake.
Once again, he peered through the peephole, watching without blinking. Time passed slowly—far too slowly. There were no footsteps. No signs of anyone's presence.
Yet that was precisely what made him even more alert.
The silence felt suffocating.
Suddenly—
Crack.
The sound rang out clearly behind him.
His body froze.
His breathing stopped.
With an extremely slow movement, he turned around.
And his eyes widened.
The robed man was already standing inside his apartment.
The mask faced him directly. The sharp object in his hand reflected the dim light of the room.
There had been no sound of footsteps.
Without realizing it, the killer was already there, like an angel of death come to claim his life.
After ensuring that his target was dead, he took an object from his pocket to collect a blood sample from the corpse before him.
After finishing his task, the robed man took something else from his pocket and fiddled with a small device attached to his chest.
Then he took out his phone.
On the screen appeared a data table—containing addresses, times, and brief notes. His gaze stopped at the column numbered four.
In one of the rows was written:
"My parents."
His eyes shifted to column three, where it read:
"Because he is disabled like me."
He clicked his tongue softly.
With a quick motion, he crossed out that line, then continued scrolling through the list, searching for his next target.
This time, the man was already standing in front of another apartment door.
With trained skill, he picked the lock and stepped inside without making a sound. The apartment was silent. He moved through each room, making sure there was no movement.
In one of the bedrooms, he saw a husband and wife sleeping soundly.
He moved swiftly. His hands precisely slit the throats of both of them, ending their lives in an instant.
As before, he was about to take out the tool to collect a blood sample from his pocket when a sound of crying drew his attention.
"Oekk oekkk"
From another corner, a faint sound echoed.
A baby's cry.
The robed man turned. A crib stood in the corner of the room. He stepped closer, staring at the small, crying creature inside.
For a moment, he hesitated.
He looked slightly confused about what to do, then, as if deciding something, he slashed its throat, granting it a swift death.
For him, this was the first time he had killed a baby. He felt no pity, no empathy, nothing of the sort. He was only confused about how to kill it, since he had not prepared for a situation like this.
A few moments later, the crying stopped, and silence once again enveloped the room.
He moved on to the next room.
There, the glow of a monitor illuminated the dark space. No one lay on the bed.
His eyes shifted downward.
Slowly, he scanned the surrounding area.
Until he noticed something strange.
His hand grabbed the side of the bed, yanking it aside in a single motion.
A narrow space was revealed, exposing a young man hiding inside.
The youth's face was pale, his eyes wide, tears flowing silently.
Lucian sat at his desk, letting out a soft yawn.
As usual, he had arrived early to class.
Gradually, the students began to file in. The sound of conversation filled the room, making the classroom feel lively.
Not long after, a teacher entered.
Her face looked gloomy and tired, far different from usual.
"Good morning, Ma'am," the entire class greeted in unison.
"Good morning," she replied quietly.
Her gaze swept across the room before she drew in a deep breath.
"Today, I have sad news for all of you."
The atmosphere in the classroom instantly froze.
"Your friend, Gema, was found dead in his yard."
Everyone gasped.
Some students covered their mouths. Some fell silent. Others began to sob. Their eyes instinctively shifted toward the empty seat beside Lucian.
Meanwhile, Lucian…
He simply stared at that chair with a blank expression.
Without emotion.
Gema was his closest friend. They were almost always together. Just yesterday, he still remembered how they had filled out that strange quiz while joking around.
Yet now—Lucian felt nothing at all upon learning of Gema's death. Just like when his younger sibling had passed away.
"This afternoon, we will choose representatives to attend the funeral," the teacher continued.
Lucian stood up. His hand rose.
"I'd like to volunteer."
All eyes turned toward him.
"Gema and I were… close friends."
The teacher paused for a moment, then nodded slowly.
Months passed.
After Gema's death, there were no more major incidents. The police confirmed that the culprit was the serial killer who had been terrorizing the city for months.
The final case— involving an entire family and a baby—sparked public outrage. Authorities intensified the manhunt, and since then, the murders abruptly stopped.
Today, Lucian was attending night classes.
The national exams were approaching, and he needed to study more seriously.
Suddenly—
The lights went out.
Darkness engulfed the room, followed by the clamor of students.
Not long after, an announcement echoed through the speakers.
"All students are dismissed due to the power outage. Please gather in the field for attendance."
Small cheers rang out. The students quickly packed their things and hurried outside.
But Lucian remained seated.
Calm.
Motionless.
From behind, a girl approached.
"Why aren't you packing up?" she asked with a teasing grin. "Are you going to keep studying so you can stay in first place?"
Lucian turned.
The girl was beautiful, mature-looking, wearing glasses, with long black hair cascading down. Smart, charming, and ranked just below Lucian academically.
"Don't you find it strange?" Lucian said flatly. "How could they make an announcement if the electricity is out?"