Gamer_San_10563

A mysterious young girl, always wearing a white mask, appeared whenever the police were stuck.
She solved cases no one could.
She never stayed long.
She never spoke much.
But every time, she helped the police... and vanished before they could ask who she was.

Who is she?
Why does she help?
And what is she hiding behind that mask?

A Masked  Detective

Somewhere in a darkened room, a screen flickered to life.

A man appeared on the call—his name was Shyam, eyes sunken, his breath hurried.

The figure on the other end was cloaked in shadow. Only a low, gravelly voice responded.

"Her?" Shyam hesitated. "You mean… that girl?"

"Same as usual. She's quiet. But… she knows. I think she knew I killed him."

Then a chilling chuckle from the figure.

"Good. That means she's getting closer. Let her."

The screen cracked and went black.

The shadowy figure ended the call.

The gates of Taraniketan School reopened.

Students walked in slowly, glancing around at the posters, the empty noticeboards, the strange quietness.

News had broken across the city—Animesh Basu, the school's former principal, had been found dead in his holding cell.

But whispers told a different story.

In the morning assembly, a staff member stepped onto the stage, holding a microphone.

"Students," she began, "we welcome our new principal—Mrs. Bidisha Basu."

A tall woman with gray-streaked hair and sorrowful eyes stepped up. She was dressed in a crisp blue sari. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

"I will do my best to bring back safety and trust to this school. That is my promise to you… and to my daughter."

Few students knew what she meant by that last line.

To our readers—yes, we forgot to mention:

Sanchayita Pandit was returned to her family. Her memories were still recovering, but she was safe. She had begun a new life, slowly picking up the pieces.

She now studied at Vivekananda Girls' Institution, as a new student attending Class 11 alongside Aaradhya.

The two girls rarely spoke, but when they passed each other in the corridor, their eyes met—full of unspoken understanding.

Their new homeroom teacher was... different.

She was tall, with long red hair that shimmered under the ceiling fan. Her skin was almost too pale. She wore thin silver-rimmed glasses.

She smiled warmly at the class on her first day.

But when she turned to the blackboard, something flashed under her sleeve.

A black rose with a crescent moon blooming at its center.

24. New principal