Chapter 1: a visitor in the soil

On a summer noon, Inspector Dennisen of the security bureau ascended the stairs briskly, slowing only when he caught the scent of blood. Suddenly, a little boy emerged from the staircase, nearly colliding with him. The boy glanced at Dennisen and continued running downstairs.

"What are you doing?" Dennisen shouted after the boy. "It's dangerous here."

"Playing hide and seek," the boy's voice, along with his figure, vanished below the steps.

"Hey, how do you handle this?" Dennisen turned to his assistant trailing behind. "Do you call this 'securing the scene'?"

"Boss, it's just a suicide, so I thought..."

"You thought? Whose thoughts matter here? Yours or mine?"

"Sorry, I didn't realize someone was still upstairs."

"Enough chatter. I'm tired of lecturing you. If it happens again, you're out of the bureau, or I'll assign you somewhere I'll never see you again."

Ignoring his assistant, he continued upstairs. What he detested most was being interrupted during an investigation. He had imagined that if he were to legislate, anyone who disturbed a crime scene would be immediately considered an accomplice.

The second floor consisted of four inhabited rooms and a storeroom. The second room on the left was Dennisen's destination. The wooden door was ajar, and he pushed aside the faded white curtain to enter.

There was nothing noteworthy in the living room, so Dennisen proceeded to the bedroom. Someone had died here. A noose hung from the ceiling, wrapped around a woman's neck. Dennisen couldn't immediately examine closely because he unexpectedly found someone he knew standing in the room, facing away from him.

"Panthonia," Dennisen said, "what are you..."

"I just arrived. Not long ago," the person didn't turn around, seemingly staring at the woman's wrist.

"But you were nowhere to be found all day, so how did you know about this?" Dennisen shot a threatening glance at his assistant after speaking.

"I have my sources."

"Your sources? Those petty thieves? Or junkies? Or don't tell me you had that kid playing hide and seek help you."

"Not the time, Dennisen," the person slightly turned his neck, allowing Dennisen to see his right profile. "You know what needs to be done."

Dennisen indeed didn't want to clash with his partner at this moment. Despite his dissatisfaction, he would have to cooperate with this person named Panthonia Sholl, who was a few years older than him, for at least another year or two. He had to focus all his energy on the investigation now, as the death of this woman would bring them significant trouble.

"Poor Aretta, this is your end, miss. You once... When you put on that light green dress, you were so..."

As Dennisen spoke, he paced around the bedroom. He couldn't find the right words he needed because his attention was soon fully focused on the east wall. On the upper half of the not-so-clean white wall, there were words formed from coagulated blood: "I will always be yours."

He furrowed his brows. "Please don't let it be a suicide for love. Please, holy light. I'm almost married, this is too ominous."

Although he wouldn't admit it, subconsciously Dennisen hoped Panthonia would have some reaction to his words. Of course, as expected, his partner remained silent, seemingly staring at the woman's still-open eyes.