Chapter Twenty Two - Rose's Grief

The door opened on the third knock, but only partway.

Rose Brook stared at Detective Lisa from the narrow crack, one eye ringed with smudged eyeliner, the other hidden behind a curtain of platinum-blonde hair. Her lips were stained red, a half-lit cigarette dangling from one corner. Her robe—a faded ivory silk—hung loose on her shoulders, revealing a camisole underneath and bare legs. Behind her, the apartment was dense with smoke and the scent of something sour: whiskey, sweat, and the kind of loneliness that left claw marks on the walls.

Lisa held up her badge.

"Detective Lisa Janssen. I'm here about Dr. Kazou Kuroda."

Rose didn't move.

"Of course you are."

She stepped back, leaving the door open without saying another word. Lisa entered, shutting it gently behind her.

Lisa stood just inside the doorway, her coat still damp from the drizzle outside. Her sharp eyes adjusted to the dim, amber-tinted lighting of the room. The curtains were drawn, barely letting in the overcast daylight. Dust hovered in the air like forgotten memories.

"Sit down if you want," Rose says, walking towards her armchair.

Rose Brook didn't look up from the armchair where she sat, legs folded beneath her, a half-empty glass dangling from one hand, a cigarette smoldering between two fingers of the other. She wore a silk robe that once might have been elegant—once—but now it hung off her like a memory from a life she no longer believed in.

Detective Lisa stepped forward, scanning the room. Empty bottles lined the windowsill, and books were scattered on the floor. A cracked picture frame lay face down on the table, its glass spiderwebbed, like the relationship it had once celebrated.

Lisa didn't sit.

"You were engaged to Dr. Kazou Kuroda," she said, calm, professional. She pulled out her notepad. "I have some questions."

Rose let out a soft laugh—dry, mocking. "Was. The keyword is was. That man doesn't exist anymore. Whatever part of him was real died with the rest of us. HAHAHA!"

Lisa studied her, letting the silence hang.

"Okay... But I have some questions and I need some answers, Ms. Brook."

"Make it quick," Rose said, sinking into the armchair and grabbing a half-full glass from the coffee table. "I've already done my grieving. A month ago."

Lisa stayed standing. "How long since you last saw him?"

Rose laughed bitterly. "Not since he stopped pretending I mattered."

"Do you know anything about what he's involved in now?"

"I know he's unraveling. Always had that in him. The kind of man who carries the world like it's his job to fix it. Eventually, it breaks you. Or you break it." She took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaled toward the ceiling. "What did he do, kill someone?"

Lisa didn't answer right away.

Rose's smile twisted.

"Typical Kazou. Selfless until it gets someone hurt."

"He came to us a month ago," Lisa said. "Claims someone named Casimir Bielska is responsible for a recent shooting."

At that, something shifted. Rose blinked, slowly. The name meant nothing to her, but something in Lisa's voice made her stiffen slightly.

"I've never heard that name in my life."

"You sure?"

Rose scoffed. "Do I look like someone who keeps track of Kazou's ghosts?"

Lisa stepped closer. "He seems convinced this Casimir is real. That he's dangerous. That he killed someone. But there's no record of him. No footage. No witnesses. Not even a trace in the city registry."

"Well," Rose said, flicking ash into a chipped glass tray, "maybe that's because Kazou made him up."

Lisa narrowed her eyes.

"You think he's delusional?"

"I think he's haunted," Rose said flatly. "The kind of haunted that turns facts into metaphors. I saw it even before he left. He started coming home later. Less sleep. Starting off in the middle of conversations. Whispering things like, 'It's not what it looks like' or 'He's not ready yet.' I thought maybe he was cheating." She laughed softly. "Honestly, that would've been easier."

"Do you think he's capable of violence?"

Rose finally looked Lisa in the eye.

"No. But I think he's capable of standing still while the world burns around him. And that's worse, sometimes."

Lisa absorbed that. "If you remember anything, you'll contact me?"

"Sure," Rose said, leaning back and draining her drink. "If I suddenly develop clairvoyance or a reason to care."

Lisa turned to leave.

But just before she opened the door, Rose said—quietly, almost to herself—

"Casimir, huh?"

Lisa paused.

Rose stared into her empty glass. "He never told me names. Never said much. But I always wondered if there was someone else… someone behind whatever the hell broke him."

Lisa stepped out into the hallway.

Behind her, the door clicked shut.

The apartment went silent, except for the soft crackle of the record player spinning a needle across nothing.