2026-01-12 17:14:29“Prepare a new role.”
Michael’s voice came clearly through the phone, calm and steady.
“Have my assistant send the script immediately.”
“The script is called The Hypnotist’s Trial.”
Inside the command vehicle, Ashley’s mind stalled for a second.
At a moment when every second meant the difference between life and death for a hostage, he was talking about preparing for a role?
A chill ran down her spine.
She opened her mouth, but her throat was so dry she couldn’t form a single word.
Lorenzo, who heard the message through the loudspeaker, froze for an instant, then his shock exploded into fury.
“He’s completely lost his mind!”
He grabbed the main communicator, his bloodshot eyes locked onto the signal marker that represented Michael.
“Michael! Do you even know what’s happening right now?! Cynthia’s life is hanging on that knife, and you’re talking about acting?!”
His roar shook the entire vehicle, filled with the rage and despair of an old detective on the edge of collapse.
Michael ignored Lorenzo completely. He continued speaking only to Ashley, his tone firm and unshakable.
“The opponent changed the script. I have to change my role.”
“I need fifteen minutes.”
“To prepare something that truly fits this play.”
His words were perfectly logical, yet everyone who heard them felt a strange, unreal chill.
This was no longer an investigation.
It was a dialogue between two madmen, and the rest of them weren’t even qualified to interrupt.
Ashley felt her temples throbbing. The pressure made her vision darken. She held onto the console to keep herself steady.
Lorenzo was still shouting hoarsely over the line.
Ashley looked at the surveillance feed.
Valentine Lane lay silent under the rain, like a monster with its mouth open, ready to swallow the hostage at any moment.
And their only lifeline was asking for fifteen minutes… to “get into character.”
The one thing they had the least of. But she had no choice.
That same reckless thought took over her again.
She had already handed over command.
She had already staked her career on this gamble.
So…One more step.
She would bet that Michael, the madman, could create a miracle.
“Lorenzo. Enough.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but his shouting stopped instantly.
She walked up to him, took the communicator from his hand, and ended the call with Michael.
Then she pressed another button and connected to Michael’s assistant.
Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice was firm.
“This is Ashley.”
“Send what Michael asked for to the command vehicle immediately.”
The air inside the vehicle froze.
Lorenzo stared at her like she was a stranger. He felt that she had gone crazy too.
“Captain, you can’t, ”
“Follow the order!” Ashley snapped, turning sharply. Her eyes were red, filled with the ruthlessness of someone pushed into a corner. “Or do you have a better way to save the hostage right now?!”
Lorenzo fell silent.
Did he? No.
The negotiators weren’t here yet. The tech team was stuck on the ‘forest of steel.’ The sniper had no clear shot.
They were completely helpless.
Less than five minutes later, an unremarkable nanny van sped through the rain and braked sharply at the entrance of the alley.
Michael’s assistant, a young woman with black-rimmed glasses, jumped out, her face pale. She clutched a folder tightly to her chest.
Clearly shaken by the scene, she trembled as she handed the folder to the officer who met her.
The folder was rushed to Ashley.
On the cover, several elegant words were printed clearly:
The Hypnotist’s Trial.
Ashley held the thin folder in her hands, yet it felt heavier than a thousand pounds.
‘This… was their hope? A script?’ she thought.
Lorenzo glanced at it. His lips trembled, and he finally collapsed back into his chair, covering his face with his hands. He didn’t look again. He didn’t speak.
He had given up.
To him, everything now felt like a ridiculous farce.
Soon after, Michael got out of his car on the rooftop and entered the command vehicle.
He didn’t look at anyone.
He walked straight to Ashley and took the folder from her hands.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” he said calmly. “I need absolute silence.”
Ashley stared at him, searching for even a trace of madness or mockery.
But there was none. Only a bottomless, terrifying calm.
“Everyone, out of the vehicle!”
Ashley turned and issued the order to the stunned officers inside the command car.
“Lorenzo, you too.”
Lorenzo lifted his head abruptly, about to argue, but when his eyes met Ashley’s unwavering gaze, he swallowed every word.
He stood up, glanced at Michael one last time. His expression was complicated, anger, frustration, unwillingness… and a trace of fear he didn’t even realize he was carrying.
He shook his head and stepped out of the vehicle.
Soon, Michael was the only one left inside.
Ashley remained outside, letting the rain soak her uniform. She spoke into the walkie-talkie clipped to the door.
“Fifteen minutes. I want an answer.”
Then she turned it off. She stood alone in the rain, guarding the final doorway between reality and the madman inside the car.
Michael sat in the cold seat, surrounded by softly glowing instruments.
Through the windows, the sound of rain was muted and distant. The world felt completely silent. He didn’t open the script immediately.
Instead, he closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and cleared away every lingering emotion tied to A Thousand Faces and the Clown.
His mind needed to be empty, clean, before it could hold a more twisted soul.
Only then did he open the script titled The Hypnotist’s Trial.
It told the story of a psychology professor named Laurence, gentle and refined on the surface, a respected academic… yet secretly a monster who toyed with human hearts.
He never committed crimes with his own hands.
Instead, he used subtle hypnosis and psychological suggestion to guide people with emotional wounds, turning them willingly into tools for his revenge and entertainment.
What he truly enjoyed was the godlike sense of control, shaping other people’s fates as if they were pieces on a board.
Michael’s eyes moved steadily across the pages, absorbing lines of dialogue and character notes.
Then, a familiar system prompt echoed inside his mind.
[New antagonist detected: “The Hypnotist’s Trial” , Laurence.][Character compatibility: 92%.]
[Warning: This role carries a high risk of psychological contamination. Confirm role immersion?]
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22
Ashley’s breathing hitched slightly as she asked, “What’s your plan?”Michael’s lips curled into a cold, crooked smile. “It’s simple,” he said. “He prepared a fake… so I’ll prepare another one.”Ashley frowned. “Another fake?”“A fake of a fake,” Michael replied calmly. “The one he made is meant to expose the truth. Mine has only one purpose.blur the line between what’s real and what isn’t.”He stepped closer, voice lowering.“I’ll use a perfect replica to replace the one he planted ahead of time. When he proudly plays his ‘reveal’ video and the experts come up to authenticate the painting… they’ll find that the evidence.” he paused, the smile deepening, "...is genuine.”Ashley’s eyes widened.His carefully staged trial would collapse into a farce. He would accuse Ivan of forgery, only for the physical evidence to prove otherwise. In an instant, he’d go from a righteous judge to a sensationalist slanderer in front of everyone.The plan was bold. Reckless. Borderline illegal.Ashley’s
21
The ballroom of one of Los Angeles’ most exclusive luxury hotels glittered like a jewel box.Crystal chandeliers hung overhead like miniature galaxies, scattering light across the polished marble floor and the carefully composed faces of the city’s elite, faces painted with polite smiles and social niceties.Tonight was the annual “Heart of White” Charity Gala.And the event had reached its emotional peak.Liam White, the city’s most celebrated philanthropist, stood at the center of a red velvet stage, microphone in hand.His voice was rich, warm, and perfectly controlled as he recounted one heartbreaking poverty-relief story after another.Every pause was deliberate. Every emotional beat calculated.The audience listened, deeply moved. Some dabbed at the corners of their eyes.Applause swelled again and again. No one in the room knew that the “rescued children” he spoke of were nothing more than statistics, fabricated symbols used to launder vast sums of money.Hidden in plain sight,
20
Lorenzo’s words landed like a bucket of ice water dumped over everyone’s head.The room fell quiet. They were no longer dealing with criminals like William, people whose motives could still be explained through ordinary psychology or greed.The actions of the so-called “Audience” had escalated into something else entirely, something that threatened the symbolic foundations of the entire city.And Michael’s response, tt sounded just as unhinged. Ashley didn’t answer right away. She kept staring at her phone screen.Those three names sat there like weights pressing against her chest.Logic told her Lorenzo was right. This was reckless, a gamble with their careers, their reputations, and the credibility of the whole department.But her instincts, the instincts that made her one of the best detectives in the city, were screaming.She couldn’t forget the way Michael had controlled the situation on the subway platform.She couldn’t forget the kind of dangerous “weapon” she herself had autho
19
Michael’s body trembled slightly in the chair. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and slid down his pale cheeks.His teeth were clenched so tightly that his gums began to bleed, the metallic taste of rust filling his mouth.He was using physical pain to fight the mental corrosion.Trying to hold on to the last piece of territory that still belonged to Michael, to the part of himself that was still human.But he failed. In the face of absolute faith, emotions and mortal resistance were unbearably fragile.He felt his final line of defense being swallowed whole by an overwhelming tide.Darkness came.He didn’t know how long it lasted.Maybe a century.Maybe only a second.The silence in the study was eventually broken by the slow, steady sound of breathing.Michael opened his eyes.The calm detachment he once had was gone.So were the emotional fluctuations that made him human.What remained was frozen stillness, Dead ice.When he looked at people… at objects… it was the same gaze o
18
The cold electronic alert echoed through the LAPD command center, striking everyone’s nerves again and again.Lorenzo’s face had gone ashen. He slammed his fist onto the console so hard the monitors rattled, his roar breaking under the strain of pure rage.Ashley’s body stiffened beside him.Her eyes were fixed on the screen, on the half-lit, half-shadowed promotional photo of Michael in the judge’s robe.A chill crawled up her spine.This was no longer just a crime.It was a public declaration of war, against Michael… and against the entire police department.In his apartment, Michael watched the provocative video feed calmly, his expression unreadable.His opponent had made the first move.The other party was playing the role of a supreme Grand Judge, using religious fanaticism and airtight logic to condemn the “sinners” he believed deserved punishment.Michael understood something clearly:His current abilities, psychological profiling and empathic resonance, allowed him to underst
17
The command center of the Los Angeles Police Department’s Major Crimes Division was thick with a suffocating gloom, heavy enough to feel almost physical.On the massive digital wall, high-resolution images from the crime scene played on a continuous loop, captured from every possible angle. The statue, executed, stared back at every officer in the room, its damaged eyes an unspoken accusation.“Check it again!” Lorenzo’s voice thundered across the room. “Citywide surveillance. From ten last night to six this morning. Every intersection leading in and out of Central Plaza, nothing gets missed!”His eyes were bloodshot. Cigarettes burned one after another between his fingers, and the ashtrays on the table had overflowed into small gray mounds.But his fury was met only with helpless headshakes.“Captain Wang… it’s no use,” said the head of the Technical Analysis Unit, his voice strained. “The suspect completely avoided all standard surveillance routes. We’ve been combining footage for t
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