Chapter 1: The Silent Corpse

The penthouse smelled of old leather and expensive whiskey, but underneath it lingered something colder—something wrong. The air-conditioning hummed softly, blowing the faint scent of death through the dimly lit room.

Detective Aryan Nagtilak stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings like a hawk sizing up its prey. The place was pristine, untouched by the usual chaos of a murder scene. No overturned furniture. No signs of struggle. The only thing out of place was the dead man in the chair.

Rajat Khanna, one of the city's most powerful businessmen, sat slumped in his leather recliner, eyes open, mouth slightly parted as if caught mid-sentence. The glow from the city skyline outside reflected in his lifeless pupils. He looked peaceful—too peaceful.

Aryan walked closer, his partner, Renu, right behind him. She adjusted her gloves, her expression unreadable. "Locked-room murder?" she murmured.

Aryan crouched beside the corpse, examining Rajat's face. No bruising. No visible wounds. The man looked like he had simply drifted off to sleep. Except for one thing—the small white note tucked neatly into his breast pocket.

Aryan pulled it out carefully and read the typed words:

"The game begins."

A slow chill crept up his spine. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

The Unseen Clues

Renu crossed her arms. "No signs of forced entry. The main door was locked from the inside. Security footage shows no one entered after Rajat came home."

Aryan scanned the room again. The whiskey glass on the table was untouched—odd for a man known to drink heavily before bed. His wristwatch, still on his left hand, was set six minutes ahead of the actual time.

That was deliberate.

"Check his phone," Aryan said.

Renu retrieved the device from the side table. "Last call was made at 11:47 PM. To his assistant. No messages after that."

Aryan's eyes narrowed. "But time of death is estimated at 10:30 PM."

Renu frowned. "That's… impossible. Who used his phone after he was already dead?"

Aryan's mind raced. A post-mortem call? A planted clue? The whole scene felt staged, designed for them to find.

The Watchful Eyes

The penthouse windows stretched from floor to ceiling, giving a panoramic view of the city. Aryan stepped closer, staring into the night. The neon glow of billboards painted streaks of red and blue across the streets below.

And then—a flicker.

A shadow moved in a building across the street. Someone was watching.

Aryan's pulse quickened. He turned slightly, pretending not to notice, while his hand instinctively reached for his gun. "Renu, keep talking."

She shot him a confused look. "About what?"

"Anything."

"…Fine. The toxin report should be in soon. If he was poisoned, we'll know what did it—"

Aryan suddenly spun toward the window and drew his gun.

Across the street, a figure in a dark hoodie stood on a rooftop, staring straight at him. And then—they vanished into the darkness.

"Damn it," Aryan muttered. He bolted toward the door. "Stay here and secure the crime scene!"

"Wait—!" Renu started, but he was already gone.

The Chase in the Dark

Aryan moved fast, descending the emergency stairwell in record time. The moment he hit the street, he scanned the rooftops. Nothing.

But then—a faint rustle above.

Aryan vaulted onto a parked car and grabbed the edge of a fire escape ladder. With practiced ease, he pulled himself up, scaling the metal steps two at a time. His heart pounded, adrenaline surging through his veins. Whoever this was, they knew the city well.

Reaching the rooftop, Aryan barely caught a glimpse of the figure—a slim build, wearing a mask.

"Stop!" Aryan commanded, but the figure darted away.

Without hesitation, Aryan gave chase.

They leaped across buildings, the city rushing beneath them. Aryan's combat-trained muscles burned, but he pushed forward, closing the gap.

Then—the masked figure stopped.

They stood on the edge of the rooftop, facing away from Aryan. The wind howled between the buildings.

"You're trapped," Aryan said, stepping closer, gun raised. "Turn around."

The figure didn't move for a moment. Then, slowly, they turned.

Aryan's blood ran cold.

The mask was a perfect replica of his own face.

The Vanishing Act

Before Aryan could react, the masked figure whispered, "You're too late, Detective."

Then—they stepped backward.

Falling straight off the rooftop.

Aryan lunged forward, but by the time he looked over the edge, they were gone.

No body. No blood. Just empty streets below.

The Puzzle Deepens

Minutes later, Aryan returned to the crime scene, pulse still hammering. Renu was waiting for him, arms crossed.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she said.

Aryan exhaled sharply. "Maybe I have."

She handed him a fresh report. "Autopsy results came in."

Aryan scanned the paper. His eyes froze on the cause of death.

"Unknown toxin. Killed instantly. No trace of injection."

He flipped the page—and his breath caught.

Underneath the medical report was a new note, identical to the first.

It read: "Did you see it yet?"

Aryan's grip tightened. Someone was playing games with him. Someone who knew exactly how to get inside his head.

And he had the sickening feeling that this was only the beginning.

End of Chapter 1