Your A.R.T

The iodine stung, a sharp, fleeting sensation that Wren barely registered. There was small cut on her hand, a mere scratch inflicted by the panicked child, Simba, was nothing to her.

Her assistant, however, was a whirlwind of anxiety, her apologies fluttering like trapped moths. "It's not your fault," Wren repeated, her voice a low, soothing cadence. "The kid didn't know what he was doing. See am alive and kicking"

But her assistant's expression remained taut, her brow furrowed. "But… he dared to injure you. You're… sacred, The lord of millions, how dare he." The word hung in the air, thick with unspoken reverence. "It can't go unpunished. Children needs discipline "

Wren chuckled, a soft, almost musical sound that did little to alleviate the tension. "Shouldn't we be more concerned with the killer? We're trapped here until we solve this, remember? I wonder..., who could it be? Or perhaps it's someone close".

"I'm not the one who make rash promises," the assistant retorted, a hint of defiance in her voice. "I can always quit whenever I feel like it."

Wren dismissed the threat with a wave of her hand. "It's peculiar, isn't it? The way he was killed. So… ordinarily yet so complicated, it's like the work of an art, it's just a bad art."

"Ordinarily?" The assistant's curiosity was piqued.

"Do you understand the nature of killing?" Wren asked, her gaze distant, almost dreamy. "It's not about anger, as the novels depict. It's a… discomfort of the heart, a manifestation of the soul. When your soul reaches that level you become something else, sinisterly..."

"Murderous?" The assistant interjected, her voice laced with apprehension.

"Worthy," Wren corrected.

Wren's tone laced with a strange, almost reverent quality. "Killing is… healing. It brings peace, for both the victim and the killer. An euphoric, indescribable feeling." Her eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity. "But this… this was different. Let's go to the mortuary. We'll examine the body. And inform the family we'll offer prayers for his peace too."

The assistant, though hesitant, nodded and reached for her phone. The repeated unanswered calls, the sudden, aggressive response from a voice that was decidedly not Gizzel's, created a ripple of uneasiness.

"Something's not right," she announced, her voice tight. "That woman is cheating on her husband, even during his mourning period. I think they were far from a loving couple."

"Indeed," Wren murmured, her attention already drifting.

She rose, her movements fluid and graceful, and began to undress. The assistant averted her gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face. Wren's body, though slender, bore an intricate tattoo: a majestic eagle, its wings spread across her chest, its head nestled between her breasts. The image was striking, almost predatory.

"We'll start with the body," Wren continued, her voice low and hypnotic. "Then, we'll delve into Gizzel's life. Every secret, every hidden motive… we'll uncover it all."

At the mortuary, the air was thick with the sterile scent of formal dehyde. The body lay beneath a white sheet, a silent testament to the violence that had ended its life. Wren approached, her movements deliberate, almost ceremonial. She pulled back the sheet, revealing the victim's face. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling, a look of surprise frozen on his features.

Wren knelt, her fingers tracing the line of the wound. "Clean," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

"Efficient. Almost… clinical."

Her assistant, standing at a respectful distance, shuddered. "It's… disturbing."

"Disturbing?" Wren echoed, her gaze fixed on the victim's face. "Or… fascinating?" She leaned closer, her breath ghosting over the cold skin. "There's a precision here, a control that speaks of something more than mere anger. This wasn't a crime of impulse. This was… a performance."

She stood, her eyes gleaming with an almost feverish intensity. "If it's an art . We need to understand the artist," she declared, her voice ringing with a strange, almost manic energy. "We need to understand their masterpiece. This corpse here."

They didn't stay for long and headed out.

Back at the church's compound, Wren instructed her assistant to compile everything about Gizzel. She wanted to know her routines, her relationships, her secrets.

"Every detail, no matter how small and ridiculous" Wren then paced the church floor, a restless energy permeating her being. She began to speak, almost to herself.

"The phone call... the cheating. A man who is killed so cleanly. A child who attacks me with uncharacteristic violence. These are not random events. They are pieces of a puzzle, a puzzle I intend to solve."

Wren paused, her gaze fixed on the stained glass window depicting a scene of divine judgment. "And when I do," she whispered, a chilling smile spreading across her lips, "the artist will reveal themselves. And they will learn the true meaning of performance."

There was this huge smug on her face that send chill down her assistant's spine.

" I shall take my leave." She spoke and hurriedly run away, after all she wasn't unfamiliar with her smug at all.

It was around five when Jeremy got off work, he was supposed to go home to his wife and children but at the moment all he could think off was a beautiful widow who he is going to claim her innocence tonight, Just the thought of sleeping with that rotten man's death right after his death gives Jeremy so much satisfaction.

He took a bus that headed straight to Gizzel's station but get off two stops away and started to walk slowly. He might be a scumbag but he also cares about reputation, who knows what people will say if they got caught? He might even lose his job,

As a normal human being he was supposed to be afraid, However...

Jeremy Cho wasn't your typical man, just the thrill of being caught makes him even more daring. As he walked he kept thinking about the things he is gonna do to the beauty and giggled on his own like a fool.

Ten minutes later he was at Gizzel's and there were other people as well, It was impossible for him to enter through the front door, luckily Gizzel's had told him about the tunnel in the garden that was connected to her master bedroom, he tried to recall the location was was successful able to crawl to the Gizzel's room.

He looked around and was satisfied with the room cleanness , He heard the shower running and his smile widen, ' This woman truly knows how to handle men' he thought.

And he was in his perverted thoughts, suddenly the phone rang and knowing it wasn't his Jeremy was dissatisfied, he knew it was Gizzel's,.

Who is calling her at the time like this, her other men..? Could it be that she is cheating on me? At that time he lost all his reasoning and pick it up angrily.