Chapter 2: The Family in the Dark

  The moment Inspector Ryker stepped into the house, he immediately sensed something unusual in the air. It wasn’t the cold, nor was it exactly threatening—rather, it was an overwhelming silence, as if every sound had been sucked out by some invisible force. The house was immaculate, arranged with clinical precision, every corner meticulously cared for, like a lifeless exhibit in a living museum.

  Victor led the officers into the living room, where Elly had already prepared hot tea. There wasn’t a single raised eyebrow, not a single question—they welcomed the uniformed visitors as if they had known every detail of this visit in advance.

  “We just have a few questions,” Ryker began, his eyes scanning the room. “Regarding some recent incidents at Inter-District High School No. 4.”

  “We’ve heard,” Victor replied, his calm gaze unsettling. “It’s terrible, really.”

  Elly only nodded softly, her deep brown eyes drifting quietly toward the hallway. Then came the sound of footsteps—light as feathers on the wooden floor. From the staircase, two teenagers appeared.

  “This is Helen, our daughter,” Elly introduced, her tone as gentle as if she were speaking of a cup of tea.

  The 16-year-old girl had long, glossy black hair and pale skin that almost glowed under the soft lighting. Her deep, intelligent eyes locked onto Ryker’s for a second, as if reading every thought in his mind.

  “And this is Tom,” Victor added.

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  Tom—a 15-year-old boy with neatly trimmed hair, broad shoulders, and a gaze as sharp as a blade. Ryker thought to himself: this kid didn’t feel like a child at all, but like an adult forced into a small frame.

  “They're both adopted,” Elly said quietly. “We took them in when they were seven and eight.”

  From that moment, the air grew taut like a drawn bowstring. Ryker began asking questions—seemingly innocent ones, but each a carefully laid trap. Yet every answer from Victor, Elly, and even the children came flawlessly, like lines from a well-rehearsed script. Not a single crack.

  “Where was your family when the incidents occurred?”“At home, as usual. You can check the security cameras in the area.”

  “Did the kids go to school that day?”“Helen’s studying online for a science project. Tom had a mild fever—there’s a doctor’s note.”

  “Can anyone confirm that?”“Elly’s always home with the kids. I had an online meeting—you can check my activity logs.”

  Ryker nodded, taking notes, but inside, a sense of unease welled up. Everything was correct—too correct. That very perfection sent a chill down his spine. It was as if this family had anticipated every question he would ask.

  The more he probed, the more certain Ryker became that one—or both—of the children were behind the incident. There was something in Tom’s eyes… like a raging current barely held back. Helen was too quiet, too deep—like an abyss filled with intellect.

  And the most terrifying part: there was no evidence.

  No footage, no traces, no DNA, no fingerprints, no signs of forced entry. Even in their school records, Helen and Tom were model students—flawless.

  At last, Ryker stood up. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  “It’s nothing,” Victor replied with a courteous smile. “The police are welcome anytime.”

  As the officers stepped out the wooden door, Ryker turned for one last look at the house. On the second floor, through the window, Helen and Tom stood silently, watching them go. No smile. No blink.

  A cold wind swept through the empty street. Ryker pulled his collar tighter.

  “We’re going to keep an eye on this house,” he said, his voice hoarse.