Rain smmed against the window, distorting the neon lights outside. Dr Dortex sighed, rubbing his temple as he peeked through the blinds.

  “He’s te,” he muttered, irritation cing his voice. His patience was already stretched thin.

  His gaze drifted toward the office clock. Another minute ticked by.

  “I should start looking for new—”

  DING-DONG.

  The shrill doorbell cut him off. “… oh, so he finally came—”

  DING-DONGDINGDONGDINGDONG—

  “Is he trying to break my damn doorbell?!” Annoyed, he stormed to the door and yanked it open. The brass namepte reading Dr. Dortex wobbled from the force.

  A drenched young man stood in the doorway, water dripping from his hair onto his nose. He bowed so abruptly that it nearly looked like he was about to colpse.

  “I AM SORRY!” he blurted out. “I swear, I won’t be te again!”

  Dortex just stared at him. A single drop of rain slid down the guy’s cheek, mixing with his desperate expression.

  “…Huh. Come inside.”

  The young man practically leapt through the doorway.

  “Don’t sit on the sofa,” Dortex snapped before he could drop onto it. “You’re soaking wet.”

  The office smelled of damp fabric and old books. Dortex sat behind his desk, skimming through a resume.

  “So… you’re Isek.” His voice was ft, unimpressed.

  “Yes, sir!” Isek straightened in his seat, still trembling slightly. “I have overseas experience and—”

  CRUNCH.

  Isek’s eyes widened in horror as Dortex crushed the resume in his palm. Then, without hesitation, he tossed it over his shoulder.

  “Wha—MY YEARS OF HARD WORK!” Isek scrambled after the crumpled paper, clutching it like a wounded animal. “What was the point of the torture I endured for so many years…” he whispered, sniffling.

  Dortex barely acknowledged him. Instead, he leaned forward. “Just answer one question.”

  Isek gnced up, pouting. “…You could’ve at least read it.”

  Dortex ignored the comment. “Why do you want this job?”

  Isek blinked. “That’s it? Just the pin old cliché question?” He huffed. “I thought you’d be more mysterious, Doctor.”

  Dortex didn’t react, just waited.

  Isek sighed dramatically, then grinned. “I guess it’s ‘cause detectives are cool.” His voice picked up with excitement. “Working in the shadows, uncovering truths no one else can see—that’s just awesome, isn’t it?”

  Dortex was silent, overseeing him. After a pause, he spoke.

  “…I see.”

  Isek sat up straighter. “So I can—”

  “Get out of my office.”

  The air shifted.

  “…Huh?” Isek blinked.

  “You’re not selected.” Dortex stood, walking to the window.

  Isek felt like the ground had been yanked from under him. “Wait, what? Why?!”

  “You can’t do this job just because it ‘sounds cool.’” Dortex’s voice darkened. “Sooner or ter, you’ll come to hate it. But no matter how much you want to quit—” He turned slightly, his eyes unreadable. “—I won’t let you.”

  Isek swallowed. The room suddenly felt colder.

  “What do you mean…?” His voice was smaller now.

  “Perhaps, I wasn’t clear enough when I said I want you to begone.” Dortex’s voice grew louder.

  “Then… what do you want?” Isek whispered, shaken by his rejection.

  Dortex didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze sharpened. “What lengths are you willing to go?”

  Isek straightened immediately. “Anything!” he decred. “Whatever it takes, I’ll—”

  Dortex stepped closer.

  “Can you die?”

  Dortex kept walking, closing the space between them.

  “W-What?” Isek’s breath hitched. “You mean death from the gun shooting, constant dangers we are exposed to, right? Then yes I can, I—”

  Dortex cut him off.

  “Let me be clearer.” His voice was lower now, a sinister whisper.

  “Can you experience death?”

  Isek stiffened.

  Dortex’s next words were slow, deliberate.

  “Can you endure the pain of being stabbed? The sensation of your lungs failing as you suffocate? Can you stand on the edge of death again and again and still keep going?”

  Isek’s body refused to move. He stared into Dortex’s cold, empty eyes.

  “I—I just…”

  Dortex studied him for a long moment, then exhaled.

  “Thought so.” He turned away, walking to the door. “I’m not disappointed. This just isn’t where you belong.”

  He pulled the door open. “You should go—”

  “…Can you?”

  Dortex paused, fingers still gripping the edge of the door. He turned slightly, giving Isek a sharp look.

  “Pardon?”

  Isek didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Dortex’s.

  “Can you experience death?” His voice was firmer now, his posture no longer hesitant.

  Dortex raised an eyebrow. “Everyone experiences death eventually.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Isek clenched his fists. “You make it sound like I’m weak because I fear death. But doesn’t everyone? You, me, everyone? So why reject me for something that’s… natural?”

  Dortex remained silent. For the first time, he was hesitating.

  Isek noticed. His eyes narrowed. “Wait…” He took another step forward. “It can’t be—” His breath hitched. “Did you experience death?”

  Dortex’s grip on the doorknob tightened. His knuckles turned white.

  Isek saw it. “No… no one can die and live again. That’s impossible. Not even you—”

  “It’s not something to be told to others.” Dortex’s voice came sharp and low, his expression darkening.

  A strange look flickered in Isek’s eyes—part curiosity, part defiance. “So you have experienced it,” he whispered.

  Dortex exhaled slowly. He turned away, but his voice carried a quiet weight. “…Once I tell you, there’s no going back.” His tone was grave. “No matter how much you beg for it.”

  “Isn’t that exactly what I wanted?” Isek grinned slightly, as if that warning only excited him. “If you can endure it, I can too.”

  “… I can too…” Dortex murmured, as he gnced over his shoulder. Then, he ughed. A low, bitter chuckle.

  “I wish it was as easy as you think.”

  The amusement faded as quickly as it came. Dortex studied him for a long moment, then let out a short sigh.

  “Fine.” His voice was colder now. “If you want to die so badly, then—”

  He shut the door.

  “Follow me.”

  The hallway was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of dust and metal. Dortex led the way in silence, his steps unhurried but deliberate.

  Isek followed, his pulse quickening with every step.

  Finally, they reached a door at the end of the hall. Dortex pushed it open, revealing a darkened room. The fluorescent tube light flickered to life, casting a cold, artificial glow.

  Isek’s breath hitched at what he saw.

  A rge machine, sleek and unfamiliar, dominated the center of the room. Two metallic chairs sat before it, wires snaking from their frames into the console beside them. The computer screen glowed faintly, waiting.

  “…What the hell is this?” Isek muttered, his gaze darting over the strange device. It looked too advanced, too out of pce for this old facility.

  Dortex walked forward, his movements precise. “A machine for simutions, a test, to see if you’re even worth my time.”

  Isek raised an eyebrow. “A test?”

  Dortex didn’t answer right away. Instead, he casually flipped through a clipboard stacked with papers.

  “Detective Marcus Chen,” he read aloud. “Age 25. He was found dead in his apartment three days ago.”

  He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a lighter and a cigar. With practised ease, he lit the tip, inhaled, and then exhaled a slow trail of smoke.

  “Want one?” He offered the cigar zily.

  Isek took it, turning it between his fingers. “I don’t smoke.” Instead of throwing it away, he slipped it into his pocket.

  Dortex smirked. “Oh? What do you want, then? Bournvita?” His voice was dripping with amusement.

  Isek rolled his eyes. “Just keep talking.”

  Dortex chuckled, flipping to the next page. “Fine. Moving on.”

  “His wife, Maya, found his dead body in the morning. The autopsy says that he died from a heavy blow to the back of his head.” He pulled out a crime scene photo and handed it to Isek.

  Isek examined it closely. The victim, Detective Marcus Chen, y face-down in a pool of blood. His head was cracked open, a violent wound at the back. Shattered gss littered the floor, likely from the broken window nearby.

  His pulse quickened. “This is—” He gnced up. “Our first case?” His voice carried a mix of excitement and anticipation.

  “Perhaps.” Dortex leaned against the computer, watching him. “This case isn’t real.”

  Isek’s excitement faltered. “What?”

  “It’s a simution,” Dortex crified. “A constructed scenario. The case doesn’t exist.”

  Isek frowned. “Then what’s the point?”

  Dortex gestured to the machine. “I’m not throwing you into a real case without testing you first.”

  He moved toward the console, pressing a few keys. The machine hummed to life, the screen flickering.

  “The resonance point is set to their son’s birthday,” he murmured. “That’s where you’ll enter.”

  Isek hesitated. “Enter…?”

  Dortex gestured toward the chair. “Sit.”

  Isek didn’t move. “Wait, hold on—what do you mean ‘resonance point’? And what do you mean by ‘enter’?”

  Dortex exhaled another puff of smoke, barely gncing at him. “Be ready to experience the deceased.”

  Isek’s breath caught in his throat. “Wait. What?”

  The machine beeped. The hum grew louder.

  Dortex leaned back in his seat, adjusting the controls.

  “You’ll get it soon enough,” he muttered, almost to himself.

  The street was empty. Only the distant glow of flickering streetlights and the faint murmur of life behind closed windows filled the night air. Marcus leaned against his front door, his breath unsteady.

  “I still have time.”

  His eyes flicked to his wristwatch. 10:48 PM. He exhaled, then pressed the doorbell.

  Click.

  The door swung open immediately.

  Maya stood in the doorway, her expression sharp.

  “You’re early,” she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  Marcus tried for a tired smile. “Lucky me?”

  Her gre didn’t waver. “Not even one day, Marcus. One. Not even for our son?”

  She grabbed his colr, hands trembling. Her grip wasn’t firm—it wasn’t anger holding him in pce. It was exhaustion.

  Marcus swallowed, guilt creeping up his spine. “I… I had to—”

  “Save the excuses.”

  “No, listen.” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “I’m close. If I can just get enough evidence, I can finally take down Bigos.”

  Maya scoffed. “That’s what you always say.”

  He met her gaze. “I still have time before the day ends, right?”

  A beat of silence. Then—

  “…Hah. I guess that’s true.”

  Maya let him go, sighing. She turned and walked toward the living room.

  Dortex nudges the file on the shoe rack.

  Marcus heard a soft thump. He turned, spotting a file slightly out of pce on the shoe rack.

  “…What’s this?”

  He picked it up and flipped through the pages. His breath caught.

  Evidence. Surveilnce notes. Names.

  His fingers tightened around the file. “I’m close. Just a little more, and I’ll have enough to put that bastard away.”

  With a sharp exhale, he pced the file back, and then stepped into the living room.

  Maya was already by Mathew’s side, lifting their son into her arms. Her voice had softened, filled with warmth as she bounced him gently.

  “Look, Papa’s home.”

  Mathew giggled, waving his tiny hands.

  Marcus knelt beside them, his voice ced with guilt. “Happy birthday, buddy.”

  His son responded with a bright, toothy smile.

  Dortex make the gift shift slightly.

  Marcus blinked. Out of the corner of his eye, something moved—a small shift on the shelf.

  “…Huh?”

  Then it hit him. “Ah—right! Your gift!”

  He quickly grabbed the neatly wrapped box and handed it over. “Here, buddy. Sorry Papa’s te.”

  Mathew cpped his hands excitedly.

  “Alright, alright, enough depressing talk.” Maya guided Mathew’s tiny fingers around the knife handle. “Let’s cut the cake.”

  Marcus leaned in, forcing a smile. “Blow out the candle first, champ.”

  The candle flickered—a small, golden “3” standing atop the cake.

  Mathew simply giggled. He didn’t blow.

  Maya chuckled. “Guess we’re doing this together.”

  The three of them leaned in—

  FOOM.

  The candle’s fme extinguished.—

  CRASH!

  The gss exploded across the room.

  Maya screamed, instinctively shielding Mathew as she ducked.

  Marcus recoiled, his pulse spiking. His mind took a second to catch up—

  A stone.

  A huge one. It had smashed straight through the window.

  Mathew wailed, clinging to his mother. Maya’s breath came out in panicked gasps, holding him close.

  Marcus’ first instinct? Find the attacker.

  He sprinted to the shattered window, scanning the streets.

  A Jeep. Dark-coloured. Peeling away fast.

  His body tensed. He could chase them. He could—

  Too te.

  They were gone.

  His stomach twisted. Dammit.

  Jaw clenched, Marcus turned back.

  Maya was still in the corner, her whole body trembling as she rocked their son. His tiny arms were wrapped around her neck, sobbing into her shoulder.

  Dortex roll the stone toward Marcus’ foot.

  The stone shifted slightly, tapping against Marcus’ shoe.

  He gnced down. A note was attached.

  His fingers shook as he peeled it open.

  Dear Detective,

  If you love yourself, or your family,

  then drop the case on us.

  For a moment, Marcus heard nothing but his heartbeat.

  The note slipped from his fingers, the words circling in his mind like a taunt.

  “Marcus.”

  Maya’s voice was tight, barely holding itself together.

  “I told you to drop the case.”

  Marcus turned, and—

  Her eyes.

  They weren’t just angry. They were terrified.

  “You can’t keep doing this!” Her voice cracked. “This isn’t just about you anymore!”

  Marcus’ throat tightened. “I—”

  “You’re putting a target on us!” She clutched Mathew tighter, her whole body shaking. “Do you get that?!”

  Marcus exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face.

  “I can’t just—”

  “Oh, I know.” Maya let out a bitter ugh. “Justice. Right?” She shook her head. “You care about saving the city—what about us?”

  Marcus hesitated. His fingers curled into fists. “If I drop this, more families will suffer. More innocent people will—”

  “Innocent people?” Her voice dropped. “And what about your innocent people?”

  The words hit him harder than any punch.

  Marcus stuttered, his thoughts unravelling.

  Maya looked at him for a long moment. Then, her expression hardened.

  “You promised, Marcus.”

  Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “…You promised.”

  Marcus swallowed, unable to look at her.

  “I’ll—” His voice faltered. He turned away. “I’ll ask for protection from the police.”

  And with that, he hurried down the hallway, leaving behind the sound of his son’s wailing.

  The ticking of a clock.

  The rustling of papers.

  Marcus sat hunched over his desk, drowned in case files and reports. His fingers tightened around a pen, its tip digging into the paper as he scrawled furiously.

  One more lead.

  One more piece of evidence.

  I just need a little more…

  “I heard Bigos’ men paid you a visit.”

  The sudden voice cut through his concentration like a bde.

  Marcus shot to his feet, snapping into a salute. “Yes, sir!”

  Standing in the doorway was his superior, Chief Inspector Langley—an older man with graying hair and a stern but weary gaze. His uniform was immacute, his presence commanding.

  Langley frowned, scanning Marcus’ disheveled appearance. “Jeez, have you even slept?”

  Marcus hesitated. His uniform was wrinkled, his tie loosened, and his desk was a mess of coffee-stained papers.

  Langley sighed. “You need to take care of yourself, Marcus. And your family.”

  Marcus’ fingers curled into a fist. “I will. But only after I put Bigos behind bars.”

  Langley studied him for a long moment. Then, he pced a firm hand on Marcus’ shoulder.

  “…I admire your determination.”

  A pause. Then, softer—

  “But your family was just attacked.”

  Marcus stiffened.

  Then, he shook his head.

  “NO.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “Not after coming this far.” His eyes burned with resolve. “Not when so many people are suffering under Bigos.”

  Langley’s expression darkened.

  “…It’s useless expining to someone like you.” He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Stubborn bastard.”

  He turned toward the door.

  “You’ll have police protection in two days.”

  Marcus saluted again. “Thank you, sir!”

  As Langley left, Marcus colpsed back into his chair, running a hand through his hair.

  “Just a little more, Maya. Then—”

  BZZZT.

  His phone vibrated.

  He gnced at the screen.

  Maya calling.

  A strange chill crawled up his spine.

  “…Why is she calling me?”

  He swiped to answer.

  “Hello—”

  “MARCUS, HELP—!”

  The piercing wail of police sirens shattered the silence of the night.

  Squad cars raced through the narrow streets, lights fshing red and blue against darkened buildings.

  Inside one of them, Marcus drowned in sweat. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his entire body trembling.

  His fingers dug into the seat. Please… please… let him be safe.

  The car skidded to a stop.

  Marcus threw open the door before it fully halted, sprinting toward his home.

  He burst through the entrance.

  And then—

  He saw her.

  Maya sat colpsed on the floor, sobbing. She clutched something tightly in her hands—her knuckles white, her body shaking violently.

  Marcus hesitated, his breath caught in his throat.

  “…What happened?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  Maya lifted her face.

  Her eyes were bloodshot, hollow.

  “Mathew… Mathew is missing.”

  Then, she held something out toward him.

  A small shirt.

  Their sons.

  It was no longer white.

  It was stained red.

  Marcus’ hands shook.

  His mind screamed at him to stay calm, focused.

  But then he saw the police officers hesitating.

  He saw the way they avoided his eyes.

  And something inside him snapped.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” one of the officers stepped forward. “This is just a scare tactic by Bigos. I’m sure—”

  “HOW ARE YOU SO SURE?!”

  Marcus’ roar shook the room.

  The officer flinched as Marcus shoved him back.

  “HE COULD BE DEAD! HE COULD BE—”

  A cry.

  A loud, choked-out wail from outside.

  Marcus froze.

  His head snapped toward the back door.

  “It… it can’t be—”

  He ran.

  Maya followed right behind him.

  They threw open the back door—

  And there, standing near the window, was Mathew.

  Maya colpsed to her knees, sobbing as she pulled Mathew into her arms.

  Marcus stood frozen in pce, trying to process what he was seeing.

  His son was barefoot, shivering, shirtless.

  And in his tiny, trembling hands—

  A piece of paper.

  Marcus slowly knelt and took it. His eyes scanned the words.

  This time, the blood was on his shirt.

  Next time, it will be on his body.

  You know what to do.

  We can take him anytime we want.

  We have moles in the police.

  You can’t escape.

  Drop the case.

  Marcus’ fingers tightened. The paper crumpled in his grip.

  His voice was hollow when he spoke.

  “…They’re watching us.”

  Maya lifted her tear-streaked face.

  She looked at him.

  Her eyes—

  Anger. Hurt. Disgust.

  She clutched Mathew tighter and left the room.

  Without a single word.

  “FIND ANY SUSPICIOUS CARS IN THE AREA!”

  The police scrambled into action, rushing outside.

  Marcus?

  He just sat there.

  Half-dead.

  His fingers still holding that damn note.

  Everything was falling apart.

  And he didn’t know how to stop it.

  The clock ticked.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Marcus sat hunched over his desk, bathed in dim light, his face buried in his hands. His fingers trembled as they traced the edges of the note.

  His mind refused to stay quiet.

  “I need to protect them. I need to get them out of the city.”

  But no matter how many times he repeated the thought, it didn’t feel like enough.

  Would that even save them?

  “They can track her anywhere. Even with police protection… I can’t trust anyone.”

  CRUNCH.

  The paper crumbled in his fist.

  Frustration burned in his chest. He had chased down criminals, dismantled entire crime rings, stood against corrupt officials, but this—

  This was the first time he felt truly powerless.

  “Should I… call off this case?”

  BRRING.

  The telephone screamed into the silence.

  Marcus flinched, his heartbeat spiking.

  For a moment, he simply stared at it.

  "Who the hell would call at this hour?"

  His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, hesitating.

  Another ring.

  And then—

  Silence.

  The ringing stopped abruptly.

  Marcus furrowed his brows.

  "Did Maya pick it up?"

  He listened, waiting to hear the distant murmur of her voice from the other room.

  Nothing.

  He let out a slow breath.

  “She’s probably talking to someone… I shouldn’t disturb her.”

  His body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, by the dread gnawing at his ribs.

  He slumped back into his chair, rubbing his temple.

  The air felt thicker now.

  Still.

  Suffocating.

  Something about the way the phone went dead unsettled him.

  His gaze flickered toward the door. He thought about calling out to her—

  But no.

  "She had been terrified earlier. She probably needed comfort."

  “I need to protect them. They’re my family… and I love—”

  BAAM.

  A blunt force crashed into his skull.

  Pain exploded through his head.

  “—GHHH!”

  His vision blurred instantly, blood trickling down his forehead.

  His limbs went weak. He tried to lift his head, to see—

  A silhouette loomed above him.

  A blurred figure.

  Holding a spanner.

  Marcus barely choked out a sound before—

  CRACK.

  The second blow struck.

  Pain.

  “This... pls be safe... Mathew... Maya.”

  Then—

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  Noth—

  A muffled voice.

  “…Isek.”

  Something reached for him in the dark.

  His fingers twitched.

  He gasped sharply, lurching forward.

  His chest heaved violently, his breath ragged, sweat dripping down his temples.

  “Maya—Mathew—”

  A cold hand gripped his arm.

  Isek recoiled, his entire body trembling.

  “You’re not Marcus Chen.”

  The voice was calm, firm, grounding him back to reality.

  Dortex.

  Isek’s wild eyes locked onto him, his mind still fogged by the experience.

  “You were in a simution,” Dortex expined, his grip tightening just enough to keep Isek from spiraling. “You are Isek. Not Marcus.”

  Isek stared at him.

  His stomach twisted violently—then—

  He vomited.

  The bile hit the floor, his body convulsing as he gasped for air.

  His hands clutched his head.

  It still hurt.

  Even though it shouldn’t.

  “Where are they…” His voice was hoarse. “Where are Maya… Mathew…?!”

  Dortex sighed, stepping back as Isek tried to steady himself.

  “I don’t know.”

  The answer hit him like a second blow to the skull.

  He released Dortex, his body going limp.

  Dortex picked up his clipboard. “Rather than that, you should be asking—” He turned the page.

  “Who killed Marcus Chen?”

  Isek’s mind was still spinning. His hands clenched the chair’s armrests.

  “ISN’T IT OBVIOUS?!” His voice cracked, still caught in Marcus’ emotions. “IT WAS REX’S MEN!”

  Dortex arched an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”

  He tossed the clipboard onto Isek’s p.

  “Think. Review everything.” Dortex crossed his arms. “Every sense. Every detail you experienced.”

  Isek sucked in a shaky breath.

  His mind started repying everything.

  The memories rushed back in fragmented fshes.

  Then—

  A creeping feeling settled in his stomach.

  “…No.”

  His voice dropped to a whisper.

  “There was something off.”

  Isek’s breath hitched.

  “…The sound.”

  His eyes widened in realization.

  “In the photo…” He swallowed. “The window was shattered.”

  “But when I was Marcus…” He trailed off, voice shaky. “I never heard the window break.”

  Dortex gave a satisfied nod.

  “That means…” Isek’s face paled.

  “The killer wasn’t an intruder.”

  His fingers tightened around the clipboard.

  “They came through the door.”

  Dortex leaned in. “So—based on that information—”

  “Who’s the killer?”

  Isek’s grip tightened.

  His throat went dry.

  “…No.”

  His stomach churned violently.

  “It can’t be.”

  His mind screamed at him to stop.

  But he knew.

  “…It was Maya.”

  The name felt heavy in his mouth.

  Dortex gave him a long, neutral look.

  “You’re not Marcus.”

  “I know—” Isek choked out, “—but why? Why would she—?”

  Dortex leaned back, watching Isek piece it together.

  “Think,” he said. “From the moment you entered the dive… what happened?”

  Isek’s hands shook.

  His mind raced through the memories.

  Isek’s breath shuddered.

  “…She did it to save Mathew.”

  Dortex remained silent.

  Isek gripped his head.

  “Because I was too stubborn…” His voice cracked. “Because I wouldn’t stop chasing Rex.”

  His heart pounded.

  His vision blurred.

  “She thought…” His breath was uneven. “If she killed me…”

  “Mathew would be safe.”

  The truth crushed him.

  Isek hunched forward, his head in his hands.

  The weight of Marcus Chen’s final thoughts still lingered inside him.

  Dortex observed.

  Then, after a long pause—

  “…You can leave if you want.”

  Isek slowly lifted his head. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Dortex.

  “…What?”

  Dortex took a slow drag from his cigar, the ember glowing in the dim light. “You heard me.”

  “But… you said I couldn’t leave after joining you, right?”

  Dortex shrugged. “Well…” He lit another cigar, the flicker of fme briefly illuminating his face. “I wanted to test your resolve.”

  Isek’s fingers tensed against his chair.

  “These kinds of simution machines aren’t exactly rare,” Dortex continued. He leaned back, resting his arm over the chair. “You could find them anywhere in the city.” A long exhale of smoke. “I don’t want to watch you suffer every time we use it.”

  Isek remained silent.

  A choice.

  Walk away, live a normal life.

  Or—

  Continue diving into the lives of the dead. Feeling their final moments. Sinking into their suffering.

  He realised his hands were still trembling for the first time since waking up.

  A long silence stretched between them.

  Then—

  Isek stood up.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Dortex’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  Isek met his gaze, unflinching.

  “If this is what it takes to bring justice to people, I’ll do it.”

  For a moment, Dortex said nothing.

  Then—

  “…Hah.” A short ugh.

  For a man like Dortex, who had seen too much, trusted too little, and dismissed people too quickly—this kid had surprised him.

  “You’re a crazy bastard,” Dortex smirked. “You’re hired.”

  Dortex stood at the main door, arms crossed.

  “Get some rest tomorrow,” he said. “We start the day after.”

  Isek nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Then, with an almost too-formal bow, he abruptly turned and left.

  Dortex watched him go, shaking his head.

  “…Weirdo.”

  With that, he shut the door.

  A soft giggle escaped Isek’s lips as he walked down the street.

  The night loomed over him, thick clouds swirling above, promising rain.

  His pace was slow, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

  “Simution?”

  His smile faded, repced by something dark.

  “My foot. What does that fool think I am?”

  His fingers brushed against something in his pocket.

  The cigarette Dortex had given him earlier.

  He pulled it out, staring at it for a moment. Then—

  Flick.

  The lighter ignited.

  A small ember glowed at the tip as he took a drag, the smoke mixing with the cold air.

  His breath came out in soft puffs of mist, indistinguishable from the fog.

  “So this is how it feels…” His voice was quiet, almost hollow.

  “…To live someone else’s life.”

  A drop of sweat slid down his forehead. Or was it rain?

  He wiped it away, but his hands were still shaking.

  “Mathew… Maya…”

  His fingers twitched at the names.

  "Was that love even real? Or was it just Marcus’ emotions still lingering inside me…?"

  "It felt too real."

  "Too raw."

  His gaze lifted to the dark sky.

  The weight in his chest wouldn’t leave.

  “I still need to do it,” he muttered. “I need to research the machine. I need to find a way to travel to the past alone.”

  His eyes burned with something new.

  “I need to regain my consciousness in the past. I need to…”

  His grip on the cigarette tightened.

  “…For her.”

  The ember flickered.

  A drop of rain fell—

  Ssshh.

  The cigarette sizzled out.

  Isek sighed, running a hand through his hair.

  “…Great. I am having a bad day.”

  The rain started to pour.

  He broke into a light jog, escaping the rain.

  But there was one small relief.

  “At least Dortex thinks I bought it.”

  A smirk tugged at his lips.

  “But I know the truth.”

  “I know everything that shouldn’t be known.”

  “Those dives… are not a simution, they are real.”

  The office was quiet.

  Dortex sat at his desk, alone.

  A single file y in front of him.

  Isek’s crumpled résumé.

  He picked it up, flipping through it once more.

  A thoughtful hum escaped his lips.

  “Who is he, really?”

  His fingers drummed against the desk.

  “…Why come here? A guy with his foreign record could work anywhere.”

  His gaze shifted.

  To the basement door.

  The machine.

  His lips curled into a small smirk.

  “…Does he know?”

  A soft chuckle left his throat.

  “This will be interesting.”

  His eyes flickered to another file—

  A familiar case report.

  He traced his fingers over the name.

  Marcus Chen.

  He flipped through the pages.

  Page after page. Crime scene photos. Witness testimonies. The shattered window. The blood stains.

  His voice, a whisper.

  “It’s been years.”

  He turned the page.

  “My mom was threatened by Bigos that night, through the call.”

  His grip on the paper tightened.

  “She had to kill him… or they would have killed me instead.”

  A slow inhale.

  “She tried to stage it. She moved the body. She broke the window to make it look like an outside attack.”

  “But she made a mistake.”

  A small, bitter ugh escaped him.

  “She overlooked the broken gss on top of the body.”

  She had made a mistake.

  A mistake that got her arrested.

  Twenty-two years ago.

  His fingers curled into a tight fist.

  “…I am not reckless like you.”

  His gaze slowly lifted to the old crime scene photo.

  The dead body.

  The father he never knew.

  “…Right, Dad?”

  His voice was quiet.

  “Even after your death, Bigos is still free.”

  His hand gripped the file.

  “I won’t make the same mistakes, Dad.”

  A moment of silence.

  Then—

  A small smile.

  “This really will be interesting.”

  The screen of the machine flickered faintly in the basement.

  And with that—

  The case begins.