Chapter 4: Murder Accusation  

"I heard it! Inside the cabinet!" 

Roy lunged forward, yanking open the cabinet door. 

Inside, there was indeed a person—but a dead one. 

The voice, however, had come from two cell phones clutched in the corpse's hand. 

Damn. The mysterious figure had used one phone to call the other, then had that phone call Roy's landline. 

A trick within a trick—like Russian nesting dolls. If the goal was to get Roy's attention, then the real plan must be… 

Roy suddenly heard the sharp whistle of something slicing through the air behind him. His instincts kicked in, and he dodged just in time to avoid a sneak attack. 

Spinning around, he threw a counterpunch, a perfect 180-degree hook that landed on the attacker's shoulder. 

Unfortunately, he still wasn't fully adjusted to his new body, so the punch only struck the shoulder. 

If he had aimed just a little higher—right at the attacker's chin—it would've knocked them out cold. 

Still, it was enough to send the attacker sprawling to the ground. 

Now that Roy got a good look at them, he saw they were covered head-to-toe in a black cloak, their face concealed by a ghostly mask with a gaping mouth. 

Wait a minute—wasn't this the mask from *Scream*? 

It was a classic. Even people who hadn't seen the movie had probably come across it somewhere. That's why Roy recognized it instantly. 

**[Special Character Discovered: Ghostface Killer. You may absorb the Power of Fate to receive a reward!]** 

For a split second, Roy hesitated. That was all the attacker needed. 

A kitchen knife flew through the air. Roy instinctively twisted his body, but the blade still managed to graze his face, leaving a shallow cut. 

Furious, Roy grabbed his revolver, ready to fire—but the attacker had already disappeared around the corner. 

Their combat skills weren't much to brag about, but their speed? That was another story. 

And their stealth was insane. Even with Roy's athletic ability, he lost them after just a few steps. 

"You were just talking all big, saying if I found you, I could do whatever I wanted. Well, I found you! So come out and take it like a man!" 

Silence. 

This guy really had no sense of honor. 

Roy turned back and grabbed the dead man's phone from the cabinet, hitting redial. 

A ringtone echoed through the house. 

"Gotcha!" 

Roy sprinted toward the sound, spotting a dark figure tossing a phone onto the ground before making a break for it. 

"You bastard! You're not getting away!" 

The attacker didn't say a word, just ran like hell. Even Roy, a high school quarterback, struggled to keep up. 

Luckily, Roy's house was surrounded by an open lawn. As long as there were no obstacles, his revolver could do the talking. 

"Stop! Or I'll shoot!" 

Roy gave a final warning, but the attacker kept running straight toward a small wooded area nearby. 

Guess they thought Roy was a lousy shot. 

Too bad for them—Roy had inherited the skills of Bob Munden, one of the fastest and most accurate gunslingers in history. 

He pulled the trigger. A single shot rang out, striking the attacker in the left leg. 

"You piece of shit! Let's see who you really are!" 

Roy rushed toward the downed figure, but just then, a voice called out from behind him. 

"Drop your weapon and put your hands up!" 

The voice was familiar. Sounded like… the town sheriff? 

Roy wasn't about to take any chances. He immediately dropped his gun and raised his hands. American cops didn't mess around. 

The attacker, seizing the opportunity, scrambled into the woods. 

And because of the angle, the sheriff hadn't seen them escape. 

"Sheriff Hughes?" 

"That's me." 

Sheriff Hughes walked up and confiscated Roy's revolver. 

American cops always seemed to show up late when you needed them and way too fast when you didn't. 

"Sheriff, what are you even doing here?" 

"Noise complaint. Someone said your party was too loud, so I came to check it out. Then I see you running around with a gun. Who were you chasing?" 

Hughes knew most of the town's residents—small-town sheriff perks. He was familiar with Roy. 

"Some psycho broke into my house and killed someone! I was tracking him down!" 

"Killed someone? Where's the body?" 

Hughes snapped a pair of handcuffs onto Roy, looking shocked. 

Places like Falls Town didn't see many crimes. 

Most of the time, the sheriff's job was finding lost pets and settling petty neighbor disputes. 

Roy led Hughes into the kitchen, where the sheriff spotted the corpse stuffed inside the cabinet. 

"Wait… that's Andy!" 

Seeing the body made Hughes' face darken. 

"Okay, Sheriff, now can you let me go?" 

But Hughes wasn't listening. 

"How do I know you didn't kill Andy? You're coming to the station with me." 

Roy was speechless. 

This was exactly the kind of police work that led to so many ridiculous cases in the U.S. 

"Sheriff, think about it—if I were the killer, why would I *bring* you to the body? Wouldn't that be like turning myself in?" 

Hughes hesitated. That… actually made sense. 

If Roy had kept quiet, Hughes wouldn't have even entered the house. At most, he'd have just told Roy to keep it down. 

So was Roy telling the truth? 

"You got any other proof?" 

"There's a kitchen knife on the floor. That's the murder weapon. I bet you won't find *my* fingerprints on it—because the killer wore gloves. And guess what? I'm not wearing any." 

It was a solid argument. Hughes was almost convinced. 

But he still didn't take off the cuffs. 

"Sorry, Roy. I *want* to believe you. But I have to take you in." 

"I get it, Sheriff. But I've got an idea—one that might lure out the real killer. Want to hear it?" 

"I'm listening." 

The next day, the entire town of Falls was buzzing with shocking news: 

The town's star high school quarterback had been arrested for second-degree murder. 

Under American law, second-degree murder was a planned killing—but not as extreme as first-degree murder, which usually involved multiple victims or extra cruelty. 

Third-degree murder, on the other hand, typically referred to crimes of passion and carried a lighter sentence. 

Falls Town wasn't big—just over a thousand residents. Within a few hours, everyone knew about Roy's arrest. 

Nidhi had been wondering why Roy wasn't at school. When she heard the news, she felt like her world was crumbling. 

"No way! Roy would never do something like that!" 

While the other students gossiped, Nidhi stood up and defended him. 

Jennifer, her best friend, chimed in as well. 

"Yeah! He'd have no reason to kill anyone!" 

"But don't forget—Roy was acting super weird at the party last night." 

A guy named Billy spoke up, his tone full of fake concern. 

Billy was the one who had brought drugs to the party the night before. 

Today, he showed up to school limping, claiming he'd "fallen while drunk." 

Other students quickly agreed with him, drowning out Nidhi and Jennifer's protests. 

Roy's name was being dragged through the mud. 

And the real killer? Still out there. 

(End of Chapter)