Heir of Eternity

The Detective's Inquiry

Ethan stood his ground. The sentence hung in the air, brief but enough to make his entire body tense up. He tried to remember if he had ever met the man in the gray suit before, but the face was completely foreign. What unsettled him wasn't his appearance, but the conviction in his gaze. The man looked at Ethan like someone who had finally succeeded in finding an item long lost.

The man in the fedora folded his hands on the table. His face remained calm, but his eyes grew significantly sharper.

"You shouldn't have come here," he said.

The man in the gray suit smiled thinly. "And let you take him away?"

"I'm not taking anyone."

"You know what I mean."

Their conversation sounded like a riddle. No names were mentioned, no clear explanations given. Yet, every sentence made Ethan increasingly certain that he was the reason this meeting was taking place.

Another waiter passed by, carrying a tray with three cups of hot coffee. He excused himself with a friendly smile toward the two men. There was no sign that he sensed the tension suffocating that corner of the café.

"Ethan," Megan called from behind the register. "New order."

Ethan turned briefly. "I’m on it."

He was about to step away when the man in the fedora spoke without looking at him. "Don't go too far."

Ethan stopped.

The man in the gray suit chuckled softly. "Still the same as before. Always feeling like you can protect everyone."

"You haven't changed either."

"Have I?"

Without asking, the man in the gray suit pulled out a chair and sat opposite the fedora-wearing man. His movements were relaxed, as if he had only come to enjoy a coffee. "I just want to talk."

"People like you never come just to talk."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

Another waiter came to deliver a glass of water. The man in the gray suit thanked him politely, even managing a smile. As soon as the waiter left, his smile vanished as if it had never been there. He folded his hands. "How long do you think you can hide it?"

"Not as long as I’d like."

"So you admit it."

"I’m not denying anything."

The man in the suit shifted his gaze to Ethan. "Funny."

"What's funny?" Ethan finally asked.

"All these years, you’ve lived as an ordinary person."

Ethan frowned. "I am an ordinary person."

The man shook his head slowly, as if he had just heard a very amusing joke. "That is the greatest lie you have ever managed to maintain."

Before Ethan could press for an explanation, the café door opened again. Two burly men walked in, wearing identical black overcoats. They didn't head for the register or look at the menu. After scanning the room with a brief glance, both stood near the entrance, alert.

The man in the gray suit threw them a cursory look. "It seems they are faster than I expected."

The man in the fedora sighed softly. "You brought them."

"I was only followed."

"It amounts to the same thing."

Ethan watched the two men by the door. One of them touched his ear, as if listening to orders through a hidden communication device. An unpleasant feeling filled Ethan’s chest again. Without realizing it, he stepped backward.

That was when the café lights flickered. Once. Then they went out.

The room was immediately filled with the startled cries of customers. Some people pulled out phones to turn on flashlights, while others complained, thinking there was an electrical problem. The darkness lasted only about three seconds.

When the lights came back on, the two men who had been guarding the door were gone. The man in the gray suit was also missing. All that remained at the table was the man in the fedora and a cup of coffee still steaming with warmth.

Ethan looked around in confusion. "What..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the man in the fedora stood up and placed some bills on the table.

"Listen carefully," the man's voice was much more serious. "Tonight, you must not go home the same way you usually do."

"Why?"

"Because they already know who you are."

"But I don't even know who they are!"

"That is what is keeping you alive."

The man in the fedora picked up his hat, then walked toward the exit. Before stepping onto the sidewalk, he stopped briefly without looking back.

"Tomorrow morning, at seven. Blackridge Old Library. Come if you want to know why your parents never returned to pick you up."

The café door closed slowly. Ethan stood frozen.

Before he could even let out a breath of relief, someone stopped beside him.

"Crowded, isn't it?"

The voice was flat, nearly drowned out by the sound of forensic camera flashes and the murmur of police officers. Ethan turned. A young man stood a few steps beside him. His black coat was slightly open, revealing a police uniform underneath. He looked young, perhaps not yet thirty, but his blue eyes held the calm of a predator that was difficult to read.

"Do we know each other?" Ethan asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The man shook his head slowly. "Not yet."

He took an identification card from his coat pocket and showed it briefly. Detective Nathan Cole.

The card disappeared back into his pocket as quickly as it had appeared. Nathan kept staring at the police tape, as if his main attention remained fixed on the corpse behind it.

"I just want to ask something," he said without looking over.

Ethan nodded stiffly.

"Do you live around here?"

"Yes."

"Do you often use that alley?"

"Almost every night."

Nathan finally shifted his gaze to Ethan. He studied him for a few seconds, long enough to make Ethan’s skin crawl. "But not tonight."

"No," Ethan cut in quickly.

"Any reason?"

Ethan hesitated. If he told him about the old man who forced him to avoid the alley, he would be considered insane—or worse, a prime suspect. "I just felt like taking the main road," he replied. "No special reason."

Nathan didn't answer immediately. He looked toward the bloodstain still fresh on the asphalt. "Sometimes, a trivial decision can change a person’s fate."

His tone sounded like a casual comment, but to Ethan, the sentence felt like a veiled threat.

An officer approached Nathan. "Detective, the forensic team is finished."

"I'll be right there," Nathan replied briefly. After the officer left, he let out a slow breath. "In that case, one last question."

Ethan’s throat went dry.

"Last night..." Nathan paused, locking his gaze onto Ethan. "Did you see anyone near this alley?"

Ethan’s heart hammered. The image of the old man soaked in blood invaded his thoughts again. He remembered the old man’s warning before he handed over the metal disc. Ethan forced himself to be calm. "I didn't pass through this alley last night."

The answer came out too quickly.

Nathan stared at him without blinking. A torturous silence stretched between them for a few seconds that felt like hours. Then, the detective gave a small nod.

"Alright."

Just one word. No tone of suspicion, no pressure. It was that very calmness that made Ethan feel like he was walking on thin ice. Nathan reached into his coat pocket and handed over a business card.

"If you remember anything, no matter how small, call this number."

Ethan took it with cold hands. "Okay."

Nathan turned and walked toward the police tape. As he passed one of the officers, their voices were barely audible amidst the crowd.

"Send that metal disc to the lab immediately," Nathan ordered.

"Copy that, sir," the officer replied. "Let me know as soon as the identification results come out."

Ethan’s steps faltered. The metal disc.

His chest felt as if it had been struck by a heavy weight. That meant the object found by the police at the crime scene... was exactly the same as the one currently stored in his bag.

Ethan looked up. Nathan was already walking away without looking back. However, a sharp intuition pierced Ethan’s mind. It was as if, from the beginning of their conversation, Nathan hadn't been looking for an eyewitness at all.

He had been confirming something.

Ethan stood still for a moment. The sound of sirens continued to wail, echoing between the walls of the old buildings. Forensic officers hurried back and forth carrying equipment cases, while the police tape was pushed further back to keep the growing crowd of onlookers at bay.

He should have gone home.

Yet, his feet felt as if they were anchored to the sidewalk.