Ironwood, Middle Street, 24th Benzo Street

  The wind howled and made the midnight feel surreal. Along its way, the wind picked up leaves and other debris on the ground as it passed through the empty, usually lively street. A blue moon cast its humid blue light onto the wet ground, which had been soaked by the storm that had finally calmed down.

  As the empty streets were filled with nature's wrath, the rain continued lightly, and the raindrops fell on the rocky road leading to 2nd Benzo Street. The trees hiding inside an empty park swirled their leaves around, and it felt truly surreal. Indeed, this would happen occasionally due to the geographical structure of the Eastern Continent.

  A pair of eyes were glaring outside with a hint of irritation. An old man was standing near his window, wearing a loose white shirt and a pair of dark trousers. His bronze glasses were sitting restlessly on top of his face as he knitted his eyebrows before letting out a deep sigh. His room was dimly lit by an orange-yellowish gas lamp, and the man glanced outside for a few more minutes.

  Indeed, he enjoyed the rain. What irritated him was the sound of footsteps, which he had been hearing for minutes now. Glancing to his right, he saw the man he had been glaring at for a while. He wore a halved hat and a long black trench coat, along with dark trousers. And a poetic vibe to him. Of course, this was the usual look of a detective or an investigator. This made the man slightly irritated.

  Why would an investigator be here? he silently pondered as the rain continued to fall on the ground. The grey skies covered the horizon, but the moon's light managed to pass through, leaving the streets dimly lit and visible.

  The man's wife entered the room behind him and stood beside him. She had long grey hair and a youthful face despite her old age. She wore a dark blue dress and a small hat on her hair. She glanced at her husband, smiling softly. The man smiled back in a hurry before looking out the window. The wife glanced outside for a moment too.

  "Dear, these past few days you've been watching outside the window, especially at midnight. Is there something troubling you?"

  The man frowned as he massaged his forehead before letting out a chuckle. He turned to look at his wife's dark blue eyes as he shook his head in delight before speaking up softly:

  "It troubles me that there is a detective out on our streets. He has been roaming here for a few days now, usually during these hours. It was my first time seeing him a week ago, and since then he hasn't stopped appearing."

  His wife walked closer to the window and glanced to her right. Indeed, a man was seen pacing back and forth, lost in thought. His wife chuckled and smiled. She turned away from the window.

  "A detective is nothing problematic. They exist to solve cases. Do not worry, Russel. It should be no problem since we have nothing to hide," his wife Sylvia said with a soothing voice. He had grown to love his wife ever since he married her in his mid-twenties. They were now in their late 70s.

  The husband, Russel, smiled as he shook his head. "Indeed, there is nothing to worry about. I wonder what he is thinking about?" Russel said as he peeked at the window.

  "Nothing major, perhaps. This is a matter for the detective. It has nothing to do with us," his wife said as she headed toward the kitchen. Russel sighed deeply before pulling the curtains and heading to the kitchen.

  "Indeed…"

  ...

  A tycoon was walking on the empty, dark streets as he read a newspaper. Its headline was quite chilling today as he shook his head. He had long blonde hair and deep blue eyes. A bulky build, and he was wearing the usual businessman clothing: a dark vest, white linen shirt, and dark trousers. One couldn't forget the pocket watch and cane.

  As the man continued to stroll along the road towards his house, he began pondering, feeling quite scared. "The headline today is horrifying. Imagine how people will react when they wake up…"

  On the neatly folded newspaper, a sentence written in black font was seen taking up the majority of the front page. It had a weird sense of mystery and darkness to it for some reason:

  - **Serial Killer on the Loose!**

  Murders were not that uncommon in the lower classes. However, in the middle classes, a murderer would appear every decade or so. Of course, police agencies and other security corporations had ambitions to eliminate these problems. Their biggest obstacle was the lower classes, where one would kill for even a loaf of bread.

  They couldn't eliminate the poor by donating large sums of money or offering good jobs, as the population was rising more and more. Some influential people were thinking about demolishing the lower classes by enforcing slavery or some sort of punishment towards them. That law was never passed due to other influential people—some were moral, others were not.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  A serial killer on the loose in the middle classes was a problem for the police agency. If it was by normal means, they could start an investigation, but sometimes supernatural forces played a role, so they would assign the job to stronger agencies that specialized in supernatural forces.

  In the city of Mindale—the biggest city in the kingdom of Mercure—agencies like the Order of Mighty Court would handle these supernatural cases within a week or two, gaining a lot of trust from the people.

  The man let out a sigh as he continued walking. His footsteps echoed, and the rain mixed with the sounds of his steps. As the man walked, he could see another man pacing back and forth continuously for a few minutes. He glanced upwards a few more meters away where a curtain was drawn, and the light turned off. The man scratched his head in confusion as he passed the man walking back and forth.

  Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the man had no expression on his face and looked rather pale. Stopping in his tracks, he quickly glanced back and noticed that the man was looking directly at him!

  Instantly, the bulky man looked away and pulled his hat further down as his pace quickened. Looking slightly back, the man continued to look at him with dark eyes that seemed inhumane. The tycoon walked further and further away, showing no sign of concern for the detective. On the other end of the road, the tycoon found an intersection and headed right toward the upper street, where the upper class lived. Heading inside his house, the tycoon heaved a sigh of relief as he placed his vest on the clothing rack.

  "Who in the world was that? Should I call Mr. Nightmare Hive?" he muttered as he began pondering for a few minutes. The man shook his head. Grover Kerran, the tycoon, headed upstairs to write a letter to his private investigator. 'His' private investigator meant that the investigator would prioritize his request, and this happened due to two reasons.

  Firstly, a good relationship with the investigator would make him take your cases more seriously. If he was a good friend of yours or a person you donated a lot of money to, that is what the term "relationship with a private investigator" means. Secondly, sometimes it went against his will. For example, if the government wanted the private investigator to prioritize certain cases, he had no choice but to do so.

  However, those who were professional and influential could reject the government's requests, forcing them to use the money to find a solution.

  Grover Kerran took a deep sigh as he began writing a letter to his private investigator, who was his best friend. He scribbled and scribbled, not seeming to care about the time. The midnight rain continued to pour down onto the city, leaving people at rest.

  ...

  In another part of the street, a man wearing a halved hat, a dark coat, and a black pair of trousers stood there twitching. His eyes appeared darker than usual, and his messy brunette hair swirled in the wind beneath his hat. The man was breathing heavily as he walked back and forth, not caring about others around him.

  His mind was full of thoughts and loud noises that gave him a headache. As he continued to walk back and forth thousands of times, he stopped abruptly. A man wearing a top hat and a vest was walking beside him. He had a mustache, a bulky build, deep blue eyes, and blonde hair.

  The man glared at the businessman for a while before shaking his head. In his eyes, the man had dark, large wings and seemed to appear more dangerous than he actually looked. His face was smeared with dark paint, and it revealed his hideous smile. The man looked at this scene, baffled; it was inhumane, with no logical explanation for it!

  As the man's speed began to increase, the young man touched his forehead, which was unusually warm, before falling to the ground, groaning in pain. His vision began to blur, and his eyelids felt heavy. It was due to the lack of sleep that the man began hallucinating and feeling awful. He had been awake for three days now.

  This was not uncommon, as investigators or detectives were so focused on their job and solving a mystery that they forgot to sleep. The young man, Louis Wright, was one of them. As his eyelids continued to feel heavy, he chuckled before reaching out his hands toward the man, who was hundreds of meters away from him. His blurry vision made it harder to focus on his broad back.

  "Please come back. Help me—I need he—" The man was cut short before he fell asleep on the road.

  ...

  The next day, Russel put on his coat as he headed toward a building in silence. Opening his large wooden door, he descended and was met with a beautiful sight. Blimps with a mechanical design were floating above, and large facilities were producing white air that left big pipes. One could say that they were bad for the environment, but thanks to a wonderful man named Theo the White Angel, this problem was fixed, along with others, and he was deemed the angel of the Eastern Continent.

  Trains were moving on the road, and Guardians were patrolling the streets. Children were running around, smiling and laughing, and men with their respective women followed shortly behind in a happy mood. Music filled the air as a large building, hundreds of meters tall, was seen. This was the place everyone was headed to.

  Today was Heavenly Day, Celestial Day, Day of Grace, and so on. The most popular term, however, was the Light Festival or Day of Light. This symbolized the death of Theo the White Angel many years ago. So, the people gathered at the large building, where the government and leaders controlled, alongside where people worked. It was the biggest building on the continent, except for the Winter Continent, which had no information about it. It was called the Angel Palace or White Palace. It was very popular, and people even had their prayers there!

  ...

  Russel frowned for a moment as he massaged his temples lightly. He glanced at a picture hanging on the marching band's flag. It was King George Silver IX. "IX" referred to how many kings had come before him. He had a thick brown beard and a brown mustache. Deep red eyes and a masculine face. People cheered for him as he brought peace to the kingdom.

  Feeling slightly puzzled, Russel pulled his hat further down as he glared at the sky's horizon. It was quite beautiful. Walking along the road, he began thinking for a moment as he smiled deeply.

  Theo the White Angel was one of the most influential people ever. In the Eastern Continent, he brought airships, automobiles, trains, and so on. I wonder how he came up with all those ideas. Is he truly "the" genius? As Russel found himself lost in thought, he clenched his cane harder.

  Stopping abruptly, he glanced to his right, where a dark alleyway was visible. A man on the ground, with no sign of life, was lying there. Russel's eyes deepened as he recognized the hair. It was the detective from the night before!