The wind stirred his coat as Luca stood beneath the stars, still as stone. He hadn't blinked in nearly a minute. Something about the night felt off, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for him to notice it.
His dark eyes traced the sky, unfocused. Despite the glow of golden streetlamps and the sound of laughter drifting down the avenue, none of it reached him. He stood out—not just because of his stillness, but because his sharp eyes and black hair marked him apart from the fair, freckled faces passing by.
His shoes clicked softly on slick cobblestones, where the earlier drizzle still glinted faintly. He moved without urgency, as if pulled by habit more than thought, and pushed open the familiar door of the café.
Warmth and the scent of roasted coffee wrapped around him like an old blanket. The old man behind the counter looked up.
"Good evening. The usual?" the café owner asked, his British accent crisp and low.
"Yes. One black coffee without sugar."
He ordered a cup of bitter black coffee, his usual.
The bitterness helped when his thoughts refused to settle, like tonight. Cup in hand, Luca stepped back into the cool air. The door chimed softly as it closed behind him. Across the quiet street, a car waited. Brown sat in the driver's seat, engine idling, headlights dim.
He crossed over and slid into the passenger side.
Brown steered his car onto the street. The tires hummed softly against the pavement as he followed his usual route through the familiar neighbourhood.
Luca didn't speak. His mind was elsewhere, drawn into the pieces of a puzzle he hadn't yet solved. Several people had disappeared over the past six months. No witnesses. No patterns. No bodies. Most left nothing behind.
But this one had. A single, handmade medal, misshapen and unmarked, was found on the floor of a locked apartment. No fingerprints. Just that strange object and a door locked from the inside.
"You take your time like an old man," Brown said, glancing over with a grin.
Luca took a slow sip. The bitterness helped him focus.
"Precision is never rushed."
Brown snorted. "You and your poetic nonsense."
But he didn't answer. He was already deep in thought.
Brown watched him for a second, then broke the silence.
"You got any ideas?"
"... This situation presents a contradiction," Luca murmured, his gaze fixed beyond the windshield.
Brown raised an eyebrow. "A contradiction? How so?"
"The others vanished without a trace. But this time, someone left something behind. That medal... it doesn't fit."
"You're saying it's staged?"
"No. A staged scene would be cleaner, more deliberate. This feels accidental, like we're seeing something not meant for us."
Brown let out a sigh, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Probably belonged to the victim. We don't have time to chase ghosts, Luca. Two more went missing last week."
Luca didn't blink. "Even a shadow," he said softly, "can point toward the light."
Brown gave a tired chuckle. "There you go again. Philosopher mode. You should get some rest. Don't forget you've got class in the morning."
"I'm aware," Luca replied, voice low. His eyes shifted to the passing lights outside the window.
Brown glanced at him. "Luca… why do you keep doing this?"
There was a pause.
"You're brilliant. You could be saving lives in a hospital. But instead, you throw yourself into this mess."
Luca looked down into his cup, watching the black surface ripple faintly with the motion of the car.
"No one ever found her," he said quietly.
Brown frowned. "Her?"
Luca shook his head. "Forget it."
"Hah… you're giving me more grey hairs, you know that?" he said, sounding tired.
"... I will try to be more careful."
The car fell into silence again. The city faded behind them, streetlights giving way to the darker quiet of residential roads.
Brown pulled up in front of a six-story building, Luca's apartment. The windows glowed faintly behind drawn curtains.
Despite being a full-time medical student at a top university, Luca had taken a part-time job in investigations two years ago.
Brown had never understood why.
Back then, he had appeared out of nowhere. No experience. Just a sharp mind and a quiet desperation. He could've lived safer. Simpler. Yet he'd chosen to remain in the middle of this mess.
Luca stepped out of the car, still lost in thought. Brown watched him for a moment before calling out.
"Alright. Go upstairs and get some real sleep."
"I'll try."
Brown didn't push further.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon. We'll go over everything together, alright?"
"Understood, Mr. Brown," Luca replied with a slight nod.
Brown sighed again. "You know you can call me by my first name, right?"
Luca cracked the faintest smile. "It wouldn't suit you."
Brown laughed. "Fair enough. Good night, Luca."
"Good night, Mr. Brown."
The door closed with a soft thud, and the car pulled away into the quiet.
Luca stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring up at the building like it might answer something. But his thoughts spun in circles, restless. Sleep felt distant, like something that belonged to someone else.
He climbed the stairs. The stairwell lights flickered overhead, casting faint shadows against concrete walls. There was something comforting about their inconsistency, something that felt honest.
Inside, his apartment was still clean. A space that looked lived-in, but never alive. Every item had a place. No mess, and tidy.
He sat down at his desk and set the coffee beside a photo tucked beneath a paperweight. Three faces looked back at him, frozen in time but familiar. A girl with a bright smile in her twenties stood between two boys at the festival. One of them was him, a few years younger, with a hesitant grin.
Brown's voice echoed in his memory:
"You could be saving lives in a hospital. Why throw yourself into danger like this?"
Luca had never told him the full truth.
The bitter taste of coffee lingered on his tongue, grounding him. He reached into the drawer, the one he'd promised himself he'd never open again.
Inside: a compact case with a stun gun, collapsible baton, handcuffs, and gloves.
As he pulled on the dark clothing, he whispered softly, as if to someone long gone:
"... I will avenge you."
Before stepping out, he picked up his phone and typed a message. Brief but informative. Ready to send it to Mr. Brown or the local authorities in case anything goes wrong. A small contingency, but necessary.
The city was growing quieter. But for Luca, the night was just beginning.
***
Luca pedaled through the silent streets, breath steady, heart calm. He felt the cold wind brush against his face, a rare and gentle touch in the silence of the night.
His objective was simple, but far from safe. He had to return to the crime scene alone, searching for any sign of what they had left behind.
But deep down, he knew it was a trap. If someone had to set it off, he would rather it be him than Mr. Brown.
He had already mapped out the risks, calculated every probable response, and every variation in movement. Whoever had orchestrated the disappearances wasn't careless. But neither was Luca.
He arrived near a house located just beyond the dense residential area, parking his bike a short distance away to avoid any noise. There was no reason to give anyone a head start.
The front entrance was a no-go, too obvious. Instead, he moved through the backyard, where the fence was low and shadowed.
They would expect the front door. That's what the police would do.
But Luca wasn't the police.
He was far from ordinary. He relied on criminal psychology, anticipating his opponents' assumptions and shaping his plans around their expectations.
He knelt beside the window he had quietly unlocked earlier that day, one precaution among many. He had known there might be something more, something off. The memory of it stirred something like anticipation in his gut.
A cold smile touched his lips, barely masking the anger in his eyes.
The window creaked open. Luca slipped through with careful, practised grace. His shoes met the kitchen floor without a sound. He made it two steps toward the living room before—
Ting.
A wire caught his foot. A bell rang, faint but unmistakable.
A trap.
Everything shifted. The quiet house turned hostile in an instant. He froze, mind working rapidly.
He could escape now, but that would blow his only chance. And even if he attempted to escape, the likelihood of capture was significant. Given his prior investigation and several deductions, it was reasonable to assume they had an athletic physique.
No.
He opened the window again, deliberately louder this time, letting it creak. The bait.
Then, without hesitation, he moved up the stairs.
Each step measured, he moved forward, only to find a second trap waiting for him. Another wire, stretched thin across the first step. He carefully stepped over it, leaving the trap undisturbed.
Footsteps came. Rushed. Heavy. From the back door.
They had taken the bait.
Without hesitation, Luca made his way to the second floor and entered one of the rooms tucked away above. He remained perfectly still. He knew the culprits would return.
All signs pointed to someone highly athletic, someone capable of moving swiftly and executing elaborate plans without leaving evidence behind. Once they realized the escape had been staged, he would double back to search the house.
While most people would hide in closets or under beds, in any place they thought was safe.
But he chose to take the initiative.
Luca crouched beside a doorframe, tucked into the shadows, stun gun drawn and ready.
Then footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Climbing the stairs.
Bang!
The bathroom door flung open. Then silence.
Luca wasn't hiding there. He was in another room, blending into the shadows.
Then the soft turn of a doorknob. His door.
The culprit stood on the threshold, sensing.
Luca waited.
When the man stepped in—
Luca fired the stun gun in one smooth motion.
The shock snapped through the intruder's body. Muscles locked. Knees buckled. He dropped.
Luca moved fast, snapping the cuffs around his wrists, securing them behind his back with precision.
"You are under arrest for crimes related to the disappearance of multiple victims."
The man wheezed out a laugh. "Haha... ha... You got me..."
Even while paralyzed by the stun gun, the man let out a twisted laugh, like a madman who found joy in being caught.
Luca said nothing and watched him carefully.
"I've been waiting for someone like you," the man rasped. "A worthy opponent. Finally, someone to make the game interesting."
"Where are the victims?" Luca asked coldly.
The man chuckled again, a low, unsettling sound. "Pfft... you're really asking me that? You already know the answer. I never leave them alive. Keeping them around is too risky."
Luca's face hardened, his eyes narrowing.
"Oh, I do have my fun, though," the man added, his grin widening. "Especially the pretty ones. They scream the sweetest. Ahahaha!"
Luca didn't speak.
His whole body was shaking.
One of them had been a friend. One, he had hoped—no, believed he might find alive. He had thrown himself into this case for that one chance.
The man leaned in slightly and chuckled again. "Hoh~ You want to kill me. I can feel it."
He was right.
Luca could picture it. Ending this. Wiping that grin off his face forever.
But he didn't.
He couldn't. His parents still believed he could become a doctor, still believed in the path he had worked so hard for.
And even now, blood boiling, hands trembling. He couldn't cross that line.
He turned his back and pulled out his phone.
A notification blinked.
[Brown — 10 minutes ago]
On my way. Be there soon. Stay put.
Luca exhaled slowly and tapped the call icon.
It rang once.
"Good evening, Mr—"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound echoed first.
Then pain.
And... nothing made sense.
Everything blurred, and the floor rushed up to meet him. His limbs felt weightless. His mind slipped sideways.
From far away, he heard the voice on the phone, distorted and desperate.
"Luca?! Luca! Hang in there!"
The killer's voice cut through, sharper than the ringing in his ears.
"... Your first mistake? Underestimating my flexibility. Second? You never checked if I was armed. You let anger cloud your judgment. It's a little disappointing... but you were a worthy opponent."
Luca coughed. Blood, thick and metallic, spilled past his lips. From his wound, he could feel his blood slowly draining from his body. Each drop stole warmth. It spread across the floor in silence.
Lying there, he could do nothing but watch the man above. Anger tightened his chest.
"What now?" the man sneered. "Going to curse me with your dying breath? Hahaha—"
Bang! Bang!
More gunshots echoed, but this time, they weren't his.
The killer staggered back, confusion in his eyes.
"Wha—why..."
He collapsed on the ground, just like that. Gone.
Luca barely registered the footsteps that followed.
Then a voice. Familiar. Shaken.
"Luca!"
Mr. Brown.
Hands grabbed him, strong but trembling. His voice closer now.
"Stay still! I've already called an ambulance!" Brown shouted.
The cold was setting in. Spreading. Luca couldn't stop it.
But Brown's arms held him steady. His voice kept calling, again and again.
Luca blinked up, eyes shimmering with a dim, fading light. His heartbeat slowed.
Just before the dark took him, his lips moved in the faintest of smiles.
And then, finally, he closed his eyes.