Lucifer of The Silent Killer

The classical strains of Goldberg Variations accompanied Heinrich Aasen on his way home after delivering the final documents to a law firm in Hamburg. His work as a private courier required precision, punctuality, and the ability to maintain strict confidentiality.

Heinrich lived on the outskirts of Hamburg, a quiet and warm neighborhood to be enjoyed with his wife, Liv, and their twin daughters, Lenna and Eva.

After getting out of the car, Heinrich paused. Lenna and Eva did not greet his arrival, unlike their usual routine. The house was extremely quiet, as if no one was inside.

“Liv, I’m home,” Heinrich called, not too loudly, while checking the living room and then the kitchen.

“Are they already asleep?” Heinrich thought as he headed straight for the children’s bedroom.

Sure enough, Lenna and Eva were lying in their respective beds. The bedroom light was still on. It was unusual for them to sleep before their father returned, as they always waited to be read a bedtime story.

Heinrich smiled faintly. He stepped inside and kissed Lenna on the forehead. Moments later, he froze. His eyes lingered on the small blonde girl. Lenna was too still. There was no soft breathing, no familiar sound of deep sleep.

Heinrich’s instincts took over. He moved to Eva. The three-year-old was the same. Her sleep was unnaturally silent, prompting Heinrich to check her pulse.

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Impossible,” he murmured, pulling aside the blanket covering Eva’s body.

There was no blood or visible injury. The same was true for Lenna. Their bodies were clean, without any signs of violence or poisoning.

Heinrich stood frozen, his gaze filled with disbelief. For a moment, he lost the ability to speak. It was too sudden. Just that afternoon, his daughters had asked him to buy them new storybooks.

“Lenna … Eva …”

“Liv!” Heinrich called out as he rushed out of the children’s room. He ran toward the bedroom he shared with his wife.

Liv lay peacefully on the bed, the blanket pulled up to her chest. Her condition was the same as Lenna and Eva’s. There were no signs of physical violence or poisoning. Yet it was certain that the beautiful woman was no longer alive.

“Liv!” Heinrich grabbed his wife’s body, lifting her and holding her tightly. He wanted to cry, but no tears came, something held them back, tightening his chest until it felt unbearably heavy.

How could his family die overnight in such a state? Their bodies were untouched, and the house was neat. Everything appeared normal.

There was nothing Heinrich could do except contact the paramedics and the authorities.

Soon after, activity filled the house. Medical personnel conducted examinations, then transported the three bodies by ambulance. Police officers searched the surrounding area, attempting to find any clues.

“We will begin an investigation immediately,” one of the officers said.

“Thank you,” Heinrich replied briefly as he shook the officer’s hand, then turned to the paramedic who approached him.

“Based on our preliminary examination, the estimated time of death was between one and two hours ago.”

“What was the cause?”

“Our initial suspicion is oxygen deprivation. The exact cause will be confirmed after the autopsy.”

Heinrich nodded faintly. He did not wish to speak further.

After the officers left, Heinrich stood in silence for a while. His world had collapsed and shattered. Yet something began to trouble him. The deaths of Liv and the twins did not feel natural.

Heinrich quickly stood up and searched the entire house, but he found nothing.

“Bastards!”

Grief and anger merged into one. Heinrich felt devastated by his failure to protect his family. The man, standing 188 centimeters tall, sat at the dining table, resting his head in his hands.

By chance, Heinrich noticed a small piece of paper inside the fruit basket. He frowned, as Liv never lined fruit with paper.

Curious, Heinrich took it and examined it. On the paper was a single letter: V.

“V?” Heinrich muttered as he frowned. He studied the symbol longer and longer. Without realizing it, his eyes closed. Heinrich fell asleep while still sitting.

Heinrich blinked as he heard the sound of the classic clock in the living room. He paused briefly, then stood and washed his face at the kitchen sink. After that, Heinrich left the house, intending to meet someone he believed could help.

“Do you know the meaning of this symbol?” Heinrich asked as he stood face to face with Frederick Adler, his former handler, who now lived as the owner of a small repair shop in southern Hamburg.

Frederick took the paper offered to him and examined it for a moment. “This is not a random letter. It is an old signature that may have been forgotten,” he explained before taking a deep drag from his cigarette.

“Are you sure?” Heinrich asked seriously.

“You doubt my capability. Remember, Luc. I may not have held the weapon, but I was the mind and the one in control.”

Heinrich stared at him sharply, then exhaled slowly. “My wife and children died last night. That paper was in the fruit basket. You know I laid down my weapons a long time ago.”

Frederick extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray. “You have my condolences,” he said quietly. “But I think you should prepare yourself. Someone is waiting for you. From the way the warning was delivered, I am certain he is not an old friend with good intentions.”

Heinrich fell silent, his gaze unreadable.