Red Envelope

The sun gleamed softly on the surface of Lagooncrest Isle, brushing golden light across the rustic buildings and scattered market stalls that lined the cobbled roads. Tourists wandered the streets, enjoying the salt-kissed breeze, but Brendon had little time to indulge in the island's beauty.

The Soveniour Villa stood tall against the backdrop of coral-stained skies. Its aged facade, once bright white, was now dulled with time, streaked by decades of salt and humidity. Yet it bore an eerie charm, something nostalgic and unsettling at once.

Brendon pushed open the entrance door, and Zoe followed closely behind. The inside was a quiet contrast to the outside buzz—dimly lit, with pale blue wallpaper curling at the corners and an old wooden counter stretching across the front lobby.

Behind it stood a peculiar figure—a humanoid with the slender, upright frame of a man but the head of a zebra. His black-and-white-striped face looked like something plucked from a dream. Yet his calm voice brought them firmly back to reality.

"What can I do for you, sir and ma'am?" he asked with practiced politeness, though his glassy eyes barely moved.

Brendon opened his mouth but paused, glancing at Zoe. She stepped forward with a soft smile.

"Can we get a room?" she asked, then paused. "Apartment 101."

The receptionist tilted his head, nostrils flaring gently. "Ah… yes, of course. I assume you've been here before?"

Zoe nodded. "Technically, yes. I stayed here with my family a few years back. We had good memories—some of them."

The zebra-headed man handed over the key with an almost ceremonial grace. "Glad to hear, ma'am. We always strive to comfort our guests. Enjoy your stay."

As they took the old-fashioned key and made their way upstairs, Brendon muttered under his breath, "This place feels like it hasn't changed since the last decade."

Zoe gave a soft chuckle. "That's because it probably hasn't."

They arrived at Apartment 101. Brendon inserted the key, the mechanism resisting at first before finally giving way with a heavy click. As the door creaked open, they stepped into the room.

Inside, the room was more like a small apartment than a hotel suite. A tiny kitchenette stood on one end, a couch facing an old box TV, and a small hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

Brendon looked around, nodding. "I was wondering why they called these rooms 'apartments.' Now I get it."

Zoe shrugged. "What I don't get is how we got this room for such a cheap price. It's almost suspicious."

He looked at her sideways. "That's because it is suspicious."

Zoe smirked, dropping her bag by the couch. "So… where do we start?"

"Try to find anything unusual," Brendon said, scanning the room.

She blinked. "That's… kinda vague, don't you think?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "No."

"Then let's get to work."

They split up. Brendon checked the couch cushions, underneath the carpet, and even the back of the drawers. Zoe opened the kitchen cabinets and moved aside old condiments and dusty teacups. They combed through every inch, each creak of the floorboards echoing through the hollow silence.

In the bedroom, Zoe paused at the window. It overlooked the bay, the waves gently kissing the shore. For a moment, memories surged—her mother's laugh, Carlos's excited grin, the sun-drenched days before everything had gone dark.

She turned away before her eyes could well up.

Brendon, meanwhile, knelt by the bathroom sink, where something odd caught his attention—a tiny scratch on the bottom tile, shaped almost like a symbol. He ran his fingers over it, puzzled. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

A message from Robert.

Robert: Brendon, check out Soveniour Villa. Amelia stayed there before she disappeared.

He stared at the screen. Amelia? His fingers moved quickly.

Brendon: Got it. On my way.

He turned to Zoe, who had just re-entered the living room. "Zoe… I think we're onto something bigger than just your brother."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

He looked up from his phone, a chill dancing down his spine. "Another girl disappeared after staying here. Her name was Amelia."

Zoe's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

Brendon slowly nodded. "And I'm starting to think… all of this might be connected."

—

Back in Ridgecliff

The air was thick with tension. Robert sat at the Sheriff's Office, his brows furrowed as he went through Amelia's belongings for the fifth time. Notes, images, receipts—anything that could point to her final movements.

The phone rang suddenly, its shrill cry slicing through the silence. He picked it up.

"Assistant Sheriff Robert speaking. What's your problem?"

The voice on the other end was smooth, low, and unmistakable.

"This is Mayor Guerio speaking."

Robert straightened in his seat. "Oh! Sir. Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

"I recently heard from Devina that Brendon had left town on vacation. Is that true?"

"Yes sir, he's currently away."

"That's unfortunate. I actually wanted him to do a job for me."

"Well, you can ask me, sir. I'll definitely do it."

There was a pause. "Very well. Come to my office. There's a red envelope. I want you to take it and meet a man named Flam. And keep this discreet. Tell no one."

Robert blinked. "Understood, sir."

The call ended, but questions bloomed in Robert's mind like mold. A red envelope? Who the hell was Flam? Why the secrecy? And why was Brendon Mayor Guerio's first choice?

Still, duty called.

That evening, Robert found himself walking through the less glamorous side of Ridgecliff—the black market district. The air here smelled of smoke, oil, and whispers. The sun was gone, and street lamps flickered like they feared the dark.

Clutching the red envelope, he leaned against a rusted pole, waiting.

Minutes later, a figure emerged from a nearby alley. Slim, tall, almost serpentine in posture. His face was pale and long, his eyes sharp and glinting like glass shards.

"You Flam?" Robert asked.

The man smirked. "Indeed I am. And you must be the one sent by our dear Mayor."

He reached out. Robert handed over the envelope.

Flam tucked it inside his coat. "Thank you. My boss will be very pleased."

Robert hesitated. "Can I ask you something?"

Flam gave a theatrical wave. "Ask away, buddy."

"What's in that envelope?"

For the briefest second, Flam's face darkened, like a candle snuffed out. But then he smiled again—wider, sharper.

"Sorry, buddy," he said with a chuckle. "Looks like I have to leave."

Robert opened his mouth, but a rough voice cut through the air behind him.

"Hey! You!"

He spun around. Three thugs had appeared from behind the corner, armed with chains and rusted pipes.

"That guy's working with Flam!" one of them shouted. "Get him!"

Robert's eyes widened. "Wait, no, I'm not—!"

Too late. They charged. Robert ducked the first swing, barely rolling out of the way as a pipe slammed into the pole behind him. He wasn't trained for this kind of thing. He swung blindly, knocking one back, but the others circled.

Just when he thought he'd be overwhelmed, a shadow dropped from the rooftops.

A dark figure in a black jumpsuit dropped from the rooftop, landing in complete silence between Robert and the advancing attackers. Her presence was sudden, almost ethereal. The moonlight caught the smooth fabric of her suit, revealing its streamlined design—tight for mobility, padded at key joints. A long fox tail swayed behind her, flicking once like a warning. It was sleek, almost metallic, yet it moved with an organic grace.

Robert blinked. "What the—?"

But she didn't wait.

In a blur, she moved—her foot sweeping low with impossible speed. One thug crashed to the pavement, groaning as his legs were swept clean out from under him. The next one lunged forward with a pipe raised, but she twisted her body mid-spin, catching the weapon under her arm and wrenching it free with a crack of dislocated fingers. Her counterattack was instant—an elbow to the jaw, followed by a reverse kick to the gut that sent him skidding across the alley floor.

The last attacker hesitated, eyes wide. She was on him in a blink.

She ducked his panicked swing, flowed around him like water, and delivered a precise strike to the pressure point behind his knee. He buckled. Before he could scream, she jabbed two fingers into his neck, and he slumped unconscious with a wheeze.

Each movement was calculated, smooth, and deliberate. She didn't waste a single step.

Robert, wide-eyed and clutching his side where a thug had grazed him earlier, could only stare.

It wasn't just combat. It was art.

The fox-tailed figure stood over the fallen bodies, barely panting, the moonlight glinting off the white streaks on her gloves. She tilted her head slightly, scanning Robert as if measuring him—judging whether he was a threat or just an unlucky bystander.

"W-Who are you?" he stammered.

But she didn't answer.

Instead, she leapt—pushing off the wall with a graceful bound, her figure disappearing over the rooftops in an instant, vanishing like a shadow melting into the night.

All that remained was silence, broken only by the groans of the thugs on the ground—and the sound of Robert's heartbeat pounding in his ears.

—

Back in Lagooncrest Isle

It's evening now. Brendon sat on the edge of the bed in Apartment 101, staring at the floor.

Zoe stood at the kitchenette, arms crossed.

"So Amelia stayed here," she said. "And Carlos went missing here too."

Brendon nodded slowly. "And I came here for Natasha. That makes three people who disappeared after visiting Soveniour Villa."

Zoe swallowed. "Do you think they're all… connected?"

"I don't believe in coincidences anymore."

Silence filled the room for a beat too long.

Then Brendon stood up. "Tomorrow, we will keep digging more. There's something going on here, Zoe. And I intend to find out what it is."

Zoe nodded, firm and unflinching. "Then let's bring them home."

Together, they looked out the apartment window. The sea stretched endlessly before them, glittering beneath the stars. Somewhere out there, answers waited in the shadows.

And they were ready to face them.