Author: Sweet_SourKiwi

“Shutt” a whispering voice, amidst the darkness of the night where all that could be seen was a faint light from the chandelier in the center of the room, a small room filled with various heavy equipment such as spears and fishing hooks.


There was a muttering voice, holding back tears, a mouth tightly gagged with a dark cloth, maybe red. A pair of eyes staring in fear, a woman's eyes, still complete with eye ornaments that were faded by her tears

"Hu hu .." her crying voice was muffled and sounded trembling. A tall, large figure, dressed in black resembling a raincoat approached, carrying a horrible tool which still drenched with blood dripping to the floor.

"Ummm! Ummm!!”  

Heartbreaking screams, even with gagged mouths still sound terrible.

The floor floated as if on a boat, the lights above the hanging ceiling made the light sway, and no matter how loud the screams. No one could hear them, the place was quiet on the edge of the pier, dark, without other signs of life.


Every passing moment holds immense significance as the Earth spins rapidly, and your progress might seem inadequate in keeping pace.

Consider this: How much time do you spend waking up and getting ready each morning—perhaps twenty minutes? And how long does it take you to eat—a mere fifteen minutes? Now, contemplate the frequency of your daily meals.

Reflect on the time you spend engaging in various activities throughout the day, be it joking around, working at your desk, or pursuing what truly matters to you. Is it an hour, two hours, or even eight hours?

When you return home, picture the minutes slipping away as you wait for a bus or taxi by the roadside—fifteen minutes or maybe half an hour. Even a quick stop at the convenience store to enjoy a snack or make some noodles and sit for a while can consume around twenty minutes.

Have you ever wondered how all these moments add up over time?

Contemplate, if you will, the duration it takes for a person to live out their entire life. Yet, the more pertinent and sobering question remains—how long does it take for one individual to extinguish another person's life? Tragically, the answer may be as swift as a mere few seconds.


Sam reluctantly lowered his body, embarking on his first case for the week—Monday had barely seen the sunrise, and he was abruptly roused from his cozy slumber and thrust into action.

With a yawn and groggy eyes, he clutched the hot coffee cup he had acquired earlier from the drive-thru. The steam still billowed from the coffee's surface, and he hadn't even taken a bite of his doughnut yet.

As it turned out, someone had been diligently doing their job long before he could even emerge from his dreams. A cold, lifeless body awaited him at one of the floating storage units near the industrial dock port. The small room, measuring around four by four meters, held another corpse in a grisly state, with several parts mutilated and some still missing.

Emma, the young and astute forensic expert, stood up from her crouched position. She had just finished examining the deceased woman, whose bulging eyes seemed to plead for a merciful death.

"The victim was a secretary at a trading company. I found her company ID tag in her bag. She was thirty-two years old, single, and had a pet Pomeranian in her apartment," Emma reported.

Sam looked up, surprised that the doctor knew so much about the victim, even down to the presence of her pet.

"Did she mention her pet to you? Did you know her personally?" the young detective inquired, straightening his posture.

In response, Emma pursed her lips, a faint smirk forming. The clever woman with big eyes behind her glasses stared at Sam, slightly annoyed by his tendency to underestimate her, as he always did.

"Well, based on the wallpaper on her cellphone and the dog food slip in her bag, I guess that she had a dog. No, I didn't know her personally," Emma explained.

Sam playfully teased her, feeling that the smart-ass doctor was trying to take over his job.

"That was my part; you just need to check on the body, and that's it. What if I lose my job because of you?" he joked.

Emma restrained herself from hitting the young man, accustomed to his sarcastic nature.

"This guy, really..."

Sam shifted his focus to the cold body lying intentionally on the floor. A pool of blood had dried up, spreading like a small, unpleasant-smelling puddle.

"There's a lot of blood," he observed.

Emma removed her rubber gloves, taking a moment to share her insight.

"Well, I'm guessing that the victim was sedated first. Then, while she was still alive, they cut off her limbs, followed by her hands, and finally, her head."

Sam would have been sickened by the sight if he hadn't become accustomed to such scenes over the years. As a rookie, it had been difficult, but time had seemingly numbed him to the point of feeling heartless when faced with such horrifying conditions of lifeless bodies.

"Where is the arm? Is it like the others? This time, the right arm, right?" Sam asked. Emma nodded in confirmation.

Ron, the chief of the special crimes unit, approached from the door of the room where the body was.

"Is it similar to the previous cases?" he inquired.

Sam nodded again, expressing the similarities.

"Well, judging from the equipment and patterns, it seems like this person is really cunning," Ron remarked.

"This is already the third victim, and if this gets out, there will be chaos. The public will be restless. Sam, do whatever it takes to find the culprit," Ron instructed.

Sam assured him, saying,

"Yes, sir, that's what we're working on right now."

Ron studied Sam's face for a moment. Despite being a young detective, Sam had achieved a lot and was dependable.

Ron patted Sam's shoulder and suggested,

"Bring Dakota here. It's time you asked him for help. Don't be stubborn."

Sam scratched his head, feeling uncomfortable hearing the name. His last encounter with the young professor hadn't been pleasant—it was rather embarrassing.

"Yes, boss!" Sam replied.


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