Early the next morning, before the sun had even crested the horizon and the pale light of dawn merely kissed the rooftops, the entire special task force was already gathered at the capital police headquarters. A bleary-eyed technician from the analysis unit burst into the room, hands trembling as he held a thick stack of papers.
— "We... we've found it! Even though the device was destroyed, the automatic speech-to-text system managed to back up the final conversation!"
The stack of printed pages was quickly flipped through — line by line, voice by voice, threat by threat, plan by chilling plan — everything from the previous night was laid bare. The voices, the sinister coldness in the dialogue, the unmistakable truth in every word.
There was no longer any doubt. What they heard last night was real. No emergency briefing was needed.
Three black tactical vehicles tore through the sleepy streets, their sirens slashing through the silence like a sentence being passed. One objective: the Victor family home.
7:23 a.m.,The door to Victor's house was kicked open. In a house still fragrant with the scent of freshly baked bread, the four family members sat calmly around the breakfast table — as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
— "Victor, Elly, Helen, Tom — you are suspected of involvement in a large-scale criminal organization. You are to come with us for questioning!"
The police shouted, guns trained on their targets, handcuffs clicking into place.
Not a single one of them resisted.
07:45 a.m.Interrogation Room 1: Victor
Pale fluorescent light shone directly onto the cold metal table. Victor sat comfortably, leaning back in his chair, hands neatly placed in front of him. A handcuff still clung loosely to his left wrist, but his gaze remained calm, unshaken.
Across from him sat a seasoned investigator, a man who had worked hundreds of major cases. He stared intently at the transcript from the previous night. His voice was stern:
— “You were the main speaker in the recording. You coordinated, gave orders, finalized plans. We want to know — who are the 20 people you referred to? What does ‘escalate the situation’ mean?”
Victor raised an eyebrow, replying coolly:
— “I think you’re overanalyzing a rehearsal for a script.”
— “Don’t play games with me!” the investigator slammed his hand on the table. “You knew exactly what you were saying! We heard you — calling your eight-year-old son ‘Mania’, yourself ‘Two-Faced’. Your whole family spoke like a criminal syndicate in session, and now you expect us to believe it was just... acting?”
Victor tilted his head slightly, offering a faint smile:
— “Have you ever watched an animated film? Or imagined villains sitting down to plot? That’s the concept of the script. A criminal family — but they’re voice actors, not actual killers. What we rehearsed was voice delivery, not crime.”
It was a clever answer, but the investigator wasn’t buying it. He followed with a barrage of questions about timing, location, and Victor’s relationship with a certain media company. Each question was sharp as a blade, probing every detail.
For three hours, Victor sat tall, never once faltering.
07:45 a.m.Interrogation Room 2: Elly
In the room next door, Elly sat upright with her arms crossed. There was no trace of panic — just quiet composure. She wore a simple shirt, no makeup, and her eyes carried the same cold tone that had echoed in the recording the night before.
— “You initiated the meeting. You called Helen ‘Unpredictable’, criticized her abilities, then decided to escalate the matter. So tell me — were you leading the group?” the officer asked.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
— “I was... leading the scene,” Elly replied evenly. “In the script, I play Elara, the group’s strategic mastermind. Every word was pre-written. I even have the draft if you’d like to see it.”
— “Then why make it seem so real? Throwing knives, destroying recording devices, hiding details about the rehearsal?”
— “Because we didn’t expect you to be spying.” Elly stared back. “We had no obligation to notify outsiders that we were rehearsing a script. As for the knife — it’s a prop. I can prove it.”
The officer pressed further — about the knife’s origin, the household’s synchronized silence after 9 p.m., and why the entire family slipped into character. But Elly responded smoothly to every question, as if the answers had already been carefully prepared and rehearsed.
07:45 a.m.Interrogation Room 3: Helen
Helen sat with her legs crossed, eyes gazing into the one-way mirror as though auditioning for an invisible camera. At just sixteen, she had a composure that outmatched some of the adults questioning her.
— “You called yourself ‘Unpredictable’. You argued with who appeared to be your foster mother, discussed evading the police. Are you trying to toy with this investigation?”
— “I was acting,” Helen shrugged. “My role is ‘Havira’ — a genius teen, arrogant and reckless, the only one who dares to challenge Elara. I started practicing lines three days ago.”
— “And the 20 people who were to be ‘punished’? Who are they?”
— “That’s the title of the episode. Episode 12: The Twenty Must Pay. I even have the script.” She pulled out her phone and showed an image of a digital script, stamped with the SkyFrame Studios multimedia production logo.
The investigator dug deeper — asking for the date the script was sent, the director’s name, the sound editor... Helen answered each query flawlessly. The clarity and detail were chilling.
07:45 a.m.Interrogation Room 4: Tom
Tom, fifteen, sat obediently in a tall chair, still clutching a stuffed bear. But his expression was far from innocent. When asked:
— “Why did you talk about ‘killing 20 people’ in the recording?”
Tom smiled playfully and replied:
— “Because my character is ‘Loid’ — a traumatized child genius who hates rules. That’s my role in the animated series we’re practicing for.”
— “And who taught you those lines?”
— “My foster father Victor. Every night we’d rehearse together after assigning parts. Last night was our first live run.” Tom held up a small USB drive. “This has my first voice recording.”
The investigator played the file — it was clearly a rehearsal, with repeated takes and technical adjustments. Everything matched, down to the second.
10:45 a.m.Evidence Processing Room, Police Headquarters
After three hours, all four interrogation rooms had reached a standstill. Then, as if on cue, all four suspects simultaneously submitted their documents:
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A trustee contract from SkyFrame Studios, with verified signatures and official notarization.
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Printed scripts with individual lines annotated.
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Behind-the-scenes rehearsal videos.
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Receipts for filming props — including the metallic fake knife, dull-tipped, but designed to make a realistic sound.
The evidence room fell into stunned silence. No one spoke. Just glances exchanged, silently asking:
“How could they be this perfectly coordinated?”
A young investigator whispered:
— “If they’re acting... they’re brilliant.If they’re not... they’re terrifying.”
After three tense hours of interrogation, the lead investigator slumped into his chair, hands tangled in his hair.
On the screen in front of him, Victor was playing a video — a clearly dated and timestamped voice acting training session, recorded at the exact time as the events from the previous night.
— “I’m a semi-professional voice actor. The company commissioned us for a dark animated series — psychological crime genre. The script’s about a criminal organization operating under the guise of a family. We had to train our voices to fit the characters.”
Elly added:— “The ‘villain council’ scene was the climax. To nail the delivery, the whole family went into character last night. 9 p.m. was our scheduled test run. We turned off all interference devices for the clearest audio recording.”
Helen produced a folder from a well-known company, with verified signatures and stamped approvals. Even Tom held up a TikTok clip he’d made: “Behind the scenes — don’t let the house fool you, this ain’t your average family =))”
The evidence was airtight — legal contracts, commissioning emails, behind-the-scenes videos — all in perfect order, flawless logic, nothing out of place. The police looked as if they had been doused with a bucket of cold water.
A young female officer whispered:— “I thought they were monsters... Turns out, it was just acting?”
An older investigator muttered:— “Or... they’re better at acting than we ever imagined.”
In the silence of the room, Victor smiled and tilted his head:— “So? How was the performance?”
No one answered. But in every pair of eyes, one thing was clearer than ever:
The doubt hadn’t gone anywhere.