Chapter Eighteen - Resolution

  Things have finally gotten to the point where I can do something. This monumental discovery that I made on sheer whim – it must be considered. Even if it is a false alarm, and it could be completely false, I will see it through. I have no other options left, it is either this, or accepting my defeat. I can only hope that this final Hail Mary will result in the discovery of the Flawless’ true identity.

  The Filianore Archives – it is a place in Misult City where records of various pieces of literature and culture are kept. Why am I mentioning this? I have a feeling that whatever transpired on the day of the Flawless’ conception as a criminal must have made the news in some way. I want to visit these archives and find out if there are any archives dated back to that incident. It will be like finding a needle in a haystack – I don’t even possess the knowledge of when this supposedly happened. More accurately, I don’t even know if the needle is present – it is more like diving in the haystack, and hoping that there is something other than hay. A more Sisyphean task has never made its way to me.

  The whole night, I couldn’t bring myself to fall asleep. Too many intrusive thoughts wriggled their way into my brain, distracting me from sleeping. I only thought and pondered on how I would go about dealing with my earlier revelation, and the archives are what I came up with. There is no other place in this damned city where I could find something about the Flawless. If, by any chance, this fails, then I accept it – I am not fit to be a detective.

  The Filianore Archives provide 24/7 access to the police under the condition that there are reasonable grounds for their usage. MC-13 has gone completely astray from being an ordinary case that required ordinary measures, and I could only hope that the archives would comply. I drove myself there in the middle of the darkness that is the night, almost causing a few accidents on the way there.

  I have abandoned all reason to go to these lengths. Things such as valid reason and cognitive thinking have evaded me. I am functioning on nothing but my instincts and abstract hopes. I am just so tired – enough to fall asleep in the middle of this whole ordeal. There was no time to rest for as long as there are options, of which only one remained. Debrief has made this case tremendously time-constrained for me, and I would make him pay for it, no matter the cost.

  Luckily, the archives were in operation, even though it was past midnight by now. The building resembled a large library complex, but that is of no importance right now. I sloppily parked my car and ran straight into the building. I wandered about like a headless chicken for a while, trying to find my way using various signage and directions, but to no avail. A young female employee found her way to me, and she looked quite afraid of me. Yes, those eyes showed fear. In her eyes, an unkept madman in a tattered and bloodied detective’s coat has barged in here at midnight – anyone would be surprised from that, if not mortified. I don’t blame her for it, I have had zero time to make myself look like I belong to this civilization, nor was it one of my needs right now.

  I spoke out to her in a sore voice. “Can you tell me where you keep newspaper records?”

  She did not even adhere to what I was saying – the only thoughts inside her head told her that I was an intruder, and that she should not, by any means, tell me where the records are.

  I followed up. “Sorry – I may not look like it right now, but I am a detective.”

  That calmed her down to some extent, luckily. Her tense posture relaxed, and some words finally came out of her.

  “Oh, I am terribly sorry! I mistook you for some kind of psycho murderer! Yes – we do keep newspapers in here, follow me,” she talked in a high-sat and zealous voice.

  I gladly followed her through the halls of the archives. I would take any help I could, knowing that I am fighting for every second now. She introduced herself as Lilli, and showed no more fear now that she knew who I was. She was a volunteer at the Filianore Archives, and that this is the first time someone broke in like that. Apparently, the doors are locked at night. Chances are that I ripped the door open without even noticing.

  After a minute of walking, she led me to the room where records of newspapers are kept. Why newspapers? If the image in my mind actually happened, then it is certain that the incident made it to the news in some way.

  She curiously asked me. “So, what are you looking for, Mr. Detective?”

  “An incident from the newspapers – from around twenty years ago, or even more.”

  I felt my voice become increasingly raspy and dry in these past happenings. I don’t even know when was the last time I drank some water or ate some food. And I didn’t care – I wasn’t going to stop now.

  “Oh! You are lucky to know that we keep records for up to fifty years on newspapers!” She informed me in an overzealous tone.

  “Are they sorted in any way? I am looking for something super specific.”

  “Everyone does. And, once again, quite luckily for you, they are!”

  This girl was way too happy for my current state. I was on the verge of breaking down, and the loud voice next to me did not improve things in the slightest. It did contribute to me calming down about the whole situation somewhat, however.

  “Do you have a folder for frantic homicides with no explanation behind them?”

  “Nope! However, the ‘Crime Headlines’ section might have what you are looking for.”

  “That’s good to know – also, how do you stay so energetic?”

  “I’m glad that you’re glad! To answer that question – copious amounts of caffeine!” She said casually.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Incredible.”

  Things were going smoothly so far. I was lucky to run into Lilli, who had not a single care in the world. If it was literally anyone else, I would have a hard time explaining why I am covered in a torn-up coat soaked in blood, and why I am here. Without further ado, I stepped inside the room.

  She hopped over to a particular, non-assuming section and pointed. “Here! This section is from twenty years ago and more. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me!”

  Is this where I would finally discover the truth behind MC-13? Would I learn the secrets here, by the side of an over-the-top feverish girl? I didn’t care anymore, as long as there is progress to be made. I walked with her inside the corridor, filled with specialized cabinets that could preserve the material inside them for fifty years, and headed over to the section she mentioned.

  “Here! If you want help looking, tell me what to look for!” She eagerly offered her help.

  “Look for something like ‘Bizarre Homicide’, or something similar to that. We might be here until morning.”

  “Alrighty! I’m in dire need of cash, and so a few hours of overtime are a must!”

  With that, we began searching for something that might not even exist. I felt sorry for this girl – not just because she seemed overworked, but because I am forcing her to help me look for it. There is no guarantee that we’ll find anything, and so I would waste a good amount of time for the both of us. Regardless, she wasn’t complaining, and eagerly started opening the lockers. They were labelled with a range of dates that usually spanned one year. From what I understood, this entire wing of the archives is from twenty years ago. Judging by what I know, our objective might be anywhere from twenty to thirty years. I don’t want to magnify our focus further, because there are only hopes that I could cling to. Remember, none of this is based on evidence, but sheer hope.

  Each of these lockers contained a whole sorted box of newspapers titled ‘The Misult Times’, ‘Nowadays News’, and ‘Pronto Press’. There were hordes of their releases. If there are three different news outlets in every box, and if there are 365 days in a year, then there are over eleven hundred newspapers in each box. However, each of them has a specific label on them, varying in color. From what I deducted, blue labels are generic newspapers, yellow labels are newspapers that cover an important topic, and red labels were titled ‘Crime Headline’. This help shortened the bulk of newspapers I needed to search for from 1100 per box, to only a few tens per box. If I were to assume, there are about twenty boxes here, and some of them might still be empty, because they might be missing those specific items. That thought brought up the possibility that what I am looking for might not even be here. But alas, I pressed on further. With two people in the workforce, this could be done in about two hours.

  The process was simple – we divided our boxes in halves, opened them up one by one, and sorted through their contents for our desired labels and keywords. It turned out to be more arduous than initially thought, however, because there were more underlying factors I didn’t think about. Some of the entries were worn with age and were harder to read, some of them were damaged in ways that would make the headline unreadable, and some had stains over them. With each new flaw discovered, my hopes became more faint as the chances became slimmer and slimmer. Lilli remained ecstatic and jovial despite my depressive attitude and continued to look for the newspaper I desired at an even faster pace than I did. Perhaps the egregious amount of caffeine in her bloodstream powered her up like nitrous in a sports car.

  Then, I finally found something that sounds like it would resemble my goal. The newspaper in my hands was, thankfully, untouched and in perfect condition. The watch on my wrist read ’03:26’, meaning that we spent a little over two hours in here. My calculations must be getting rusty with all that has been going on. However, the headline was in front of me, and it read the following:

  “Beloved Seishi Family Caught in Bizarre Murder Fiasco”

  Out of every other crime-related headline, only this one described the feel of a non-understood murder with no explanation. It was a stretch, but a conclusion was reached. I was just happy that I was holding onto something, even if it was only a faint hope. Somewhat relieved, I began reading the article.

  “…In a perplexing and unfortunate turn of events, the widely-known and recognized Seishi family has been met with a gruesome fate that involved the brutal murder of Alfred Seishi, 56, and Liliana Seishi, 48.

  The police who arrived at the scene claimed that they witnessed the two victims killed in an inexplicable and unusual way that they were unable to discover at first glance. The corpses of the victims were delicately placed on chairs, as if they were peacefully resting. The police were apologetic to announce that they could not find the culprit after days of searching, but they would keep trying.

  The Seishi family, whose residence is located in Tisane District, was very popular among its surrounding neighborhoods. This tragedy has been considered as a ‘fate most unfortunate’ and a ‘disgrace against the good of people’ by the neighbors, who knew the affected family personally.

  Their young son, aged 9, according to the police, was nowhere to be found and is now presumed to be kidnapped by the murderer of his parents. The living relative, the boy’s aunt, has reserved the right to reveal his name to protect his identity. However, an active police search is being conducted in order to find the abducted child and his kidnapper. The police spokesperson claimed that the boy would be found within a week, as there were clues found at the scene of this horrific crime.”

  As I read this excerpt, my heart started up its heavy rhythmic pounding, and my arms began trembling. This was it – the start of MC-13, twenty-six years ago. This Seishi family must have been the family of the Flawless, and the mentioned boy must be the killer himself. I am so close right now. There is a living relative in this family, the boy’s aunt. If I can discover more about them, they could be the one to finally end this case for good.

  “The group of neighbors who had close relationships with the Seishi family were disheartened to hear the news. They claimed that they were the most benevolent and friendly people around, and that the old couple did not deserve this treatment. ‘It was a heinous crime that deserved utmost punishment,’ one of the neighbors stated.

  The aforementioned aunt of the kidnapped boy, Heather Tuchet, 41, also provided us with a testimony.

  ‘The boy’s predicament is worrying me immensely, and I hope that the police are able to do something about his disappearance. I just want my lovely nephew back,’ she stated.

  The police have provided Heather with a public response about the whereabouts of her nephew. They claimed that he will be found without a shadow of a doubt.”

  My breathing was heavy and erratic. I didn’t know how to process this massive leap in progress anymore. I was just glad, glad that I moved somewhere. Heather Tuchet – if this woman is still alive, twenty-six years later, then I might finally have the key lead to this case. She knows the name of the Flawless, undoubtedly. Even saying that seems impossible, but it was real – the identity of the Flawless is within reach.

  “Lilli, you can stop searching now,” I instructed the girl.

  “Did you find it?!” She shrieked, still holding a bunch of newspapers in her hands.

  “Yeah, the search is done, thank you,” I told her while getting up from the ground.

  “Wow. And you’re not even going to show me!” She complained.

  I didn’t say a word, and left. I did everything there is to be done. And now, there is a person I needed to find. My determination was slowly returning as I realized that my goal is still within reach. There is a chance at victory, and no matter how slim, how unlikely, I was determined to make it mine.