Last steps
In the Hall – Where Masks Shatter
A heavy, almost tangible silence had settled over the room. Slowly, thick blood began to seep from the advisor's corpse—as if it stubbornly refused to abandon his body until the very end. And the eyes that had witnessed his downfall? They appeared like shattered glass, straining to comprehend the unfolding catastrophe yet utterly incapable of doing so.
Even the Duke, for all his power, was powerless to halt the collapse. He knew full well that the murder committed in this hall was no mere crime—it was a message. A message from someone who played no games.
Murmurs grew louder, hearts pounded, and suspicions piled up.
"What if there is another killer among us?"
"Was the advisor truly a traitor?"
"Who's next?"
Amidst this tense scene, the Countess slowly rose as though wading through a sea of broken glass. She approached the lifeless body, bent down slightly, and reached out for the paper pinned to his chest…
But before her fingers could close upon it, everything halted.
For the grand door of the hall swung open.
---
At the Entrance – Where the New Guest Arrives
Karsu appeared. Not as a murderer, nor as some criminal lurking in the shadows, but as a distinguished guest—striding confidently, as if he had not, just moments before, been hidden in the dark corridors, casting a man to his death. Every move was calculated. His clothes bore no trace of blood; his eyes revealed no hint of prior knowledge. And when he spoke, his voice was calm and controlled—like the sound of a cage door creaking open.
"It appears I've arrived at an inopportune time…" he intoned. Slowly, he raised his hand to his collar, where a small golden medallion shimmered in the light.
"But fortunately… I am here now."
---
Calculated Chaos – Where Seeds Are Planted
Everyone struggled to grasp what was unfolding. The Duke was reeling from shock after shock, the Countess attempted to mask her anxiety, and the guards hesitated to act without orders. And that… was the perfect moment.
Karsu advanced toward the corpse and silently retrieved the paper attached to it, as if asserting a rightful claim. He read it in a hushed tone, then slowly lifted his gaze—his eyes burning with a deadly purpose—as he addressed the Duke:
"It appears there is a traitor among you, my lord Duke…"
He then flung the paper before the assembled crowd and added in a quiet yet chilling tone,
"And I believe I know who it is."
---
The Final Play – Where Masks Are Torn Off
Now, no one was even thinking about the merchant Karsu had originally planned to target. No one cared about the auction itself. Everyone's sole preoccupation was uncovering the truth—and that was precisely what Karsu intended.
When he turned calmly to leave, not a soul dared stop him. For every man in the hall was haunted by a single thought:
"Was he referring to me?"
And so, Karsu exited the hall, leaving behind flames that would never be quenched. Everything had gone exactly according to plan. The chaos that engulfed the palace plunged everyone into a web of suspicion, giving Karsu ample time to secure what he had sought all along—the traders' ledgers. Every trader, every shipment, every shady deal…and everyone connected to the secret auction.
The true mission wasn't inside—it was out there… in the shadows.
And now?
Karsu didn't need to search for the auction, because the auction itself would come looking for him.
---
Miles Away…
In another room, miles from the city, an old man sat on a wooden chair, slowly perusing a paper that had just arrived. It bore only a single line:
"See you soon at the auction."
His hand trembled as he lit a nearby candle and watched the paper burn slowly. Somewhere, hidden in the darkness, Karsu smiled. The game was far from over—it had only just begun.
---
At the Inn – Between Sleep and Wakefulness
Karsu returned to the inn utterly exhausted. The moment he touched the bed, he sank into a deep, dreamless sleep, losing all sense of time. He awoke late in the afternoon, when harsh sunlight began to infiltrate through the window. Outside his door, a tray carried both breakfast and lunch—now cold, evidence that it had been waiting for some time. He stared at the food for a moment, then reached out, picked up a piece of bread, examined it in silence, and took a slow bite. Though still weary, hunger drove him to eat methodically while his eyes wandered into emptiness. He knew the day was far from over and that he must prepare for what was coming next.
---
At Night – The Secret Door Opens
Away from prying eyes, in a dark, narrow alley, Karsu stood before a dilapidated little door. He knocked three soft times—so softly that only the man behind the door, well aware that the visitor was no ordinary one, could tell something was amiss. After a few moments, the door creaked open to reveal a cramped room filled with files and crates.
Inside sat a portly man with an unkempt beard and hands trembling from old addictions. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes brimming with fear.
Yet Karsu smiled—a smile that was a promise from which there was no escape.
"I believe you have something for me, dear merchant," he said.
---
The Black Market – A Den of Shadows
The building had no windows—a place where sunlight never reached and fresh air was forbidden. The atmosphere was heavy with the scent of money and blood. It was the black market, but not just any market… it was a pit where the weak were devoured. Slaves were sold, forbidden weapons traded, ancient magical scrolls passed between trembling, greedy hands, and dangerous secrets were bought and sold like cheap souls.
At the heart of it all, Karsu sat in a sumptuous chair among nobles and merchants, as if he belonged there. Yet in his eyes, there was no greed—only the hunt.
"Ladies and gentlemen! We now present the rare gem of tonight's auction!"
A hulking man, clad in a purple robe, stepped forward; his voice filled the hall as though the very walls bowed before him.
Then, the curtain was drawn, and everyone witnessed the unexpected: a box was revealed.
It contained neither a person nor a dazzling artifact. Instead, it held something far more dreadful.
Papers—stained with ancient blood and inscribed in archaic script, as if exhumed from a tomb sealed for centuries.
But Karsu knew exactly what they were—for he had orchestrated their appearance.
One merchant seated beside him advanced, staring at the papers in furious disbelief, "What is this? This is not the gem promised!"
But the hulking man on stage smiled—a smile concealing an invisible blade.
"On the contrary, sir… these papers are the most precious treasure your eyes will ever behold."
He stepped forward further, slowly raised one of the papers high for all to see, and then—
The real explosion ensued.
For everyone recognized those papers. They were the auction's very ledgers—every transaction, every trader, every slave sold, every corrupt politician involved, every name. They were the truth that should never have seen the light of day.
And now?
Everyone saw it.
"Who did this?!"
"These papers must be burned immediately!"
"Lock the doors! No one leaves!"
But it was too late.
The guards—who had always served the auction—no longer defended it. Instead, they raised their swords against their own masters.
"What is happening?!"
Then, amid the chaos, a single calm voice resounded, as powerful as thunder:
"I did this."
Everyone turned and saw Karsu. He was no longer seated but standing in the center of the hall, smiling as if igniting a match in a room full of gunpowder.
"And now… burn."
Chaos erupted. Traders fled, nobles screamed, and guards turned on their masters, while the papers scattered in the air like ash in a raging storm.
Karsu moved through the conflagration like a shadow slipping between tongues of flame. He produced a small bottle from his cloak, poured a clear liquid onto the heavy red drapes, and then—slowly—flicked a tiny spark onto them. In a single second, the auction transformed into hell.
---
The Final Escape – Where Only the Phantom Survives
Outside the building, on a distant rooftop, Karsu watched as flames devoured the entire auction. There was no remorse in his eyes—there was nothing for him to regret. He had destroyed the auction—not just with fire, but with truth. Now, every survivor would live in eternal fear. Every trader would suspect the other. Every politician would tremble at the thought of his name being exposed. The entire system had collapsed. And all of this? It was merely one step in his grand design.
As Karsu turned to vanish into the night, he heard a faint voice behind him:
"If you think this ends here… you don't know who we are."
He paused briefly, without turning around, then—with a barely perceptible smile—whispered:
"And you don't know who I am."
And, as if on cue, he melted into the darkness. Yet deep within the city, the echoes of his flames still burned.
---
Amid the Ashes – The Detective's Observation
Amid the scattered ashes and the lingering smoke rising from the ruins of the burnt auction, the detective stood motionless. His long coat swayed with the hot drafts as his eyes, cold and unyielding, took in the scene—a silent massacre of charred bodies, scorched money, and secrets incinerated by the flames.
Slowly, he lifted his head, letting his gaze roam over the devastation, then whispered in a low, piercing tone:
"This… is a tragedy."
But he refused to succumb to despair. Narrowing his eyes as he surveyed the burnt remnants, he muttered sharply,
"If Aren were here… he would have solved this without even needing his Qazz."
He wasn't speaking without reason; he knew that the world's smartest detective required no supernatural power to uncover the truth. Yet he himself possessed Qazz al-Basira—the ability to see events in every detail as if he had witnessed them firsthand, provided no more than half a day had passed.
Closing his eyes and letting his power work, in an instant the flames vanished, the walls reassembled, and the voices of the past filled the air once more. He saw everything—even the truth buried beneath the ashes.
A guard then asked in a trembling voice,
"How did Karsu do it?!"
The detective replied coolly,
"You're shocked? That's natural. But if you look closely, you'll see that everything was calculated from the very beginning."
---
The Method – A Step-by-Step Breakdown
Step One: Infiltrate the Auction
Karsu didn't need a genuine invitation to enter the auction. He made them want him in. He handed the guard the medallion of the Lost Prince—a piece far from ordinary. Knowing that nobles are drawn to scandal and intrigue, he fashioned himself as a mysterious figure worth watching. And thus, albeit reluctantly, they allowed him entry.
Step Two: Sow the Seeds of Doubt
Once inside, Karsu didn't creep about like an intruder; he conducted himself like a confident noble. He mingled with the key figures, whispered to a noblewoman about "the golden cage," and discreetly left a cryptic note in her pocket—fully aware that her curiosity would later compel her to read it. Every word he uttered was not idle chatter but a slow-acting poison corroding the foundations of trust at the auction.
Step Three: Smuggle the Real Documents
Before the auction reached its climax, Karsu had replaced the promised "gem" with those cursed papers. And how did he manage it? With the help of a young maid—the one who, in his eyes, reflected the sight of corpses adrift in a sea of blood. She was frightened, forced to work there against her will, and had seen what no other noble had. Perhaps she wasn't virtuous, but she was different. So when he asked, "Do you want to destroy this place?" she did not hesitate. At the very moment she was serving the nobles their drinks, she made the switch.
Step Four: Unleash Chaos
Karsu did not need to fight with his own hands; he made everyone fight among themselves.
• Traders began screaming as they uncovered each other's betrayals.
• Guards, whose duty was to protect the auction, no longer saw any purpose in defending those who would expose their names.
• Nobles tried to flee but found no exit—the doors had been pre-locked from the outside.
When Karsu declared, "And now… burn," he meant not only literal flames but the complete destruction of trust—so that even if one survived, he would trust no one ever again.
Final Step: Vanish Completely
How did he slip out before the building was consumed by fire? Simply, he never intended to leave through the front doors. There was a secret underground passage—the very route the auction used to smuggle precious goods out in times of danger. Karsu had known of its existence the moment he observed the flawless marble tiles in the hall.
"Marble this pristine? In a palace rife with filth and corruption? No… it hides something beneath."
And as the guards were too busy slaughtering their own masters, no one stopped him.
And so, he vanished like a ghost, leaving behind an unquenchable blaze.
But wait… that voice in the end?
"If you think this ends here… you don't know who we are."
This meant that there was someone—or an organization—that had not fallen into this chaos as easily as the others.
And now?
Karsu had entered a war far greater than anyone had imagined.
Had he known it all along, or was this his next move from the very start?
---
A Detective's Vow
"Damn…" snarled the detective, clenching his fist, his eyes narrowing with fierce intensity. "That man... Karsu."
His name echoed in his mind like an unsolvable riddle—a conundrum defying all his analysis. Then, in a low tone laced with both anger and awe, he murmured,
"What a true genius… I really believe he deserves that title."
Yet a cold, sardonic smile soon spread across his face, as if he refused to admit defeat even in the face of brilliance. Running his fingers through his hair, he declared with unyielding resolve,
"But I was trained by Aren… and I will not relent."
Lifting his head, his eyes blazing with lethal determination, he vowed,
"I will catch him in the end."
---
In the Shadows – The Next Move
In secret, Karsu made his way to a humble honey shop, investing every last coin in a single jar of honey. "One jar won't be enough, but it'll do," he murmured to himself, fully aware that this honey would serve as the key to his next scheme.
He then returned to the inn, where he presented the hostess with a golden ring—an advance payment for the days to come, leaving the balance as a gift. This seemingly generous gesture concealed his true intentions. Every step was part of the intricate chess game that Karsu played, and every move brought him closer to his ultimate objective.