A half hour before the event of the murder.
A couple of blocks near Occam's house.
"Je veux la gloire à mes genoux~"
A slow, serene hum could be heard along the side of the street. The source of the melody was a female figure walking with both hands in her sweatshirt's pockets, comfortably striding in her shorts.
Even while mindlessly glancing at her surroundings, her gaze was sharp yet intelligently daring—curiously attentive to every stray detail along her way.
"Je veux le monde ou rien du tout~"
She possessed an unhooded thigh-reach straight black hair with straight bangs hanging just underneath her thin eyebrows. She habitually adjusted and pushed it behind her ears, with those attempts occasionally disrupted by the breeze of the empty street. She didn't mind it as much.
"Pas les menus plaisirs, pas les petits désirs. Les privilèges~ Mmm, mmm, mmm~"
Despite so many things weighing her mind, her smile was carefree and confident.
A succulent accent followed her voice—
"Mmm, It's good that I decided to depart early." Her opera gloved hand began to press something on her waist through the pocket fabric. Something rigid and cold, like a slab of delicate steel. "Didn't expect that someone also had the same skill to coordinate this fast. Good that I took care of them at the airport."
—as she let a smell of blood trailing in her wake.
"Ah, it seems like I have arrived."
Standing at exactly 189 cm in height, there was never a moment where she hunched over. It was also impossible for her to hide her slender body beneath the baggy teal sweatshirt, as the visibly tight neck-high black shirt she wore underneath it revealed her lean physique.
Contrary to her less endowed and androgynous body, her voice was mature and soothing.
Almost too soothing, even. At the same time, it carried a hint of youthfulness.
"Mmm~"
She turned around her gaze with heightened brows, confirming the details of the house on the other side of the street. 'A white house with thin blue stripes on the upper wall. A berry blue sliding door in between stacked sandstone walls. Mmm, yes, the exact details on the latest selfie from his upper floor window.'
Before glancing back at the house in front of her with a cathartic smile.
'You went far with the preventive measure for your privacy, which I applaud, but you really didn't expect geo-guessing to rat out your location, did you? Ah, such is my heavenly catharsis. My dearest Occam~'
Her black opera gloved hand reached out the metal fence gate.
But before the tip of her finger could touch the gate fence, the silence was suddenly broken by the voice of another stranger.
And out of all things, it was her name that was mentioned on the very first part of the next long audible paragraph.
"Oren Foleur. Age: 21 years old. A foreign bachelor in Buddhist Studies within Otani University in Kyoto, Japan." A soft-spoken voice, but carrying enough power and influence to silence any who hears it. "You're currently working for a small IT company within Indonesia, which is the very same one used as the base cover for underground activity and illegal transactions…"
Formerly noiseless, presenceless, and pressureless—it was a dominating, peerless female figure uniformed in a black jacket with purple stripes at the hem, her sleeves, and the tall collar covering her lower face. To complete the frosting, she wore a red skirt—black leggings and ankle boots with stripes and a steel trim.
Her gaze was unprecedentedly cold. What's more, was the fact that she was taller than Oren, who was already taller than the majority of female volleyball players…
This towering figure stood straightened beside the threatened Oren, holding out a paper of documents as if she was reading it out aloud on a podium.
"Sixty-seven unsolved closed-room murders, thirty-eight unwitnessed street homicide, twelve reputation-related deaths that lead to broken social life and suicides. Twenty-six cases of unrecovered bullets, fingerprints, poisons, and revealed facial identity. That aside––
"All of the targets of those attacks were none other than internet bullies, stalkers, harassers, and even threats to a former actor known as Occam Chariot." The tall woman flipped the next page of the documents. "There are still many things I want to say about your work of conduct, but I deemed them as none other than pointless anecdotes.
"Of course, I let you loose unharnessed until now because you're useful at purging those moths who would otherwise soon become annoying nuisances––
"But now that you decided to make contact, it has become a dead-end endeavor—as well as the time you understood…
"That the end of this won't bring you any good, unless you sought to fulfill my proposal."
Oren was still frozen in disbelief. Not only was she unable to sense this tall woman until she was right beside her, but the contents of the document that she peeked from this woman's hands was jarring.
Preference, habits, history of education, and many creepy realizations began to resurface. 'How did she get that? How come I didn't get any premonition of this? Just, who is she!?'
Though, it took a while for Oren to realize that the tall woman was purposely holding the documents at the angle where she could clearly perceive it.
The tall woman also ensured that the pages were timely flipped after the contents were fully read, as if she was being playfully considerate of Oren's curiosity.
"Gah!" Oren created a gap of distance in an instant, raising out her hand while her other hand was on her forehead, trying to ease the headache as well the embarrassment. "Can you stop doing that, firstly?"
"I thought you're curious about the rest. It's not fun to type all of them, you know? Someone needs to read them, and it definitely won't be only me, you know?" Even though her tone didn't bear any ill intent, her eyes were scarily wide-opened, as if she wanted to snap someone's neck. "Want me to lower it for you?"
"Merde, now you're just mocking me." Veins were tightened on Oren's forehead, but she was collected enough to distill her anger. "Straight to the point, what's your deal?"
Slowly, Oren tried to reach out her weapon underneath her sweatshirt. But after seeing the person in front of her menacingly eyeing every detail of her move, she turned her hand into a defeated clutch.
"Firstly." The tall woman handed out a still-wrapped lollipop, by crudely shoving it onto Oren's cheek. "The name's Stehno Ingram. I would like to make a deal with you lest we escalate this encounter any further than this."
Even with her face being crudely violated by a candy, Oren's perplexed smile was still unwavering.
She really didn't want to amuse this bullcrap-encounter, but seeing how Stehno's index and thumb grip managed to visibly compress the candy stem, she rested her case.
"Pardon me, but is this thing poisoned?" Oren reluctantly pointed at the candy with her index.
"No, and you can take my word for it," Stehno said, while having the gaze of a remorseless killer.
"... Can I reject it?"
"That's not an option."
"I'll be buying one in the store down the street then, if that pleases you."
"That defeats the purpose of me offering you this treat."
"The 'treat' is a threat, and you're not even offering me any option!"
"There is only one option!"
"You're not offering anything at all then!"
"This treat is my offer to put us on equal ground for the conversation, how can't you see my gesture of goodwill?"
"That goodwill might as well be a 'good-kill!' notice from someone as shady as you!"
"Quit being skeptical and accept my kindness!"
"Then quit shoving it to my face!"
"Just accept it, peasant!"
"Where's the kindness in all of this!?"
Oren ended up taking the lollipop.
'Terrifying,' she thought, as she savored the sourness of the lemon-flavored candy in her mouth.
"I have only one proposal for you." Stehno slightly tilted her head upward, the shade of her eyes made her gaze way scarier than it already was with her towering stature. "From here and on, don't bring your face in front of Occam ever again.
"Don't meet him, don't even look at him, and don't even think of approaching him. Of course, you may still enshrine his very persona from a great distance away from him. But, never allow yourself to breathe the same air, in the same room, as his.
"Hide your existence away, even if you're to idolize your messiah from across the planet. That's my proposal. Easy enough to comprehend, no?"
"... Who are you to say that, I wonder?" A hint of venom began to swirl in Oren's eyes.
"His childhood friend, if you insist on knowing," Stehno answered with a deadpan.
Oren was a little perplexed, but she held her horses. "So you want to keep him for yourself, is that it?"
"Not exactly. I just have deemed you too dangerous for his health and mental wellbeing."
"You're far more dangerous than me though…" Oren murmured.
"What? I couldn't hear you, could you please repeat that? Unless." Both of her hands slid under her voluptuous breasts, a slight jiggle as she feinted a confusion. "You mean these things? They are F cups, and yes, they are dangerous indeed. Also, much bigger than yours. No, yours are flatter than Sahara, and should be proposed to be paved and filled with infrastructure by the juridical government! Just so you know, there is no possibility of contest if you ought to seek a comparison!"
Another set of veins on Oren's cheek was on the verge of bursting.
She strengthened her clutch to further ease her anger away. "I'm just saying, that someone like you, is much more dangerous to be on Occam's side than me… no?"
Stehno then put on a smug grin.
"I've got the permission from his mother."
"Gah!! The childhood friend benefits…!" Oren felt a prominent sting in her heart as she tried to clutch the pain in her chest. "This is unfair!"
"So how is it?" Stehno gestured a swiping motion with her index finger. "I've sent you ten thousand dollars in advance. Agree, and I'll bump it up to ten times more than the original payment.. Do check your bank account and unmute your phone next time."
"Huh, there has been a call from an unknown number recently, multiple of them…"
"That's me, literally in front of the airport, trying to talk this over in a nice cafe…"
"Oh… I'm sorry. I think I silenced mine."
"It's fine." Stehno put on a defeated, heartbroken smile. "It's fine really. This is given when you want to lead a deranged freak to anything less than a barbaric confrontation."
Oren raised her eyebrows with the lollipop still in her annoyed grin. "Well, as much as I want to work with you, your interest is still in a direct conflict with mine."
"Thought as much." Stehno reached out her hand and took the candy away from Oren's mouth. "I'm glad that I managed to catch up here, otherwise Occam will be in really, inconsequential danger."
"Tch, you still talk as if you have––"
Oren didn't react to the lollipop being taken from her mouth at all.
Because the numbing sensation had already overcome her whole body.
"Don't worry though, it isn't fatal enough to kill you."
And soon, the symptoms began to rear its ugly head.
Headache, stomach pain, drowsiness, dizziness, and many more afflictions began to rise in tormenting cacophony.
Yet still.
"Hmm?"
Aside from the visible jittery on her supporting limbs, Oren stood straight wearing an unfazed, calm and undefeated gaze. Despite her vision blurring in and out and her breaths barely together, it only appeared to fuel her motivation further. Not even a slight bent slouch in her posture.
"Quite the persistent one, aren't you?" Out of nowhere, Stehno casually placed the poisoned lollipop on her mouth. "Well, I take that as a 'no' then."
"AAAA-!"
Just like that, all of the bravado and headstrong heroic behavior worn on Oren's face crumbled like dust in the wind. Her face scrunched together in disgust as she gathered whatever words she could think to throw as an offended accusation.
"Why did you do that!??" Oren cried incessantly.
"Do what? This candy is already mine to begin with. Also, worry less. I already developed an immunity to this kind of poison."
"It still has my saliva in it, that's disgusting!!"
"Both of us are women! There is nothing to be disgusted about. Unless you're implying that I do this with everyone I meet..."
"I couldn't care less!!"
"I didn't! Mind you! It just so happens that lemon flavored is my favorite flavor! The last time I did this was with Occam and nobody else!"
"GAH! That still didn't justify it!"
"Then don't make a big deal out of this!"
"But, but! T-that is also my first indirect 'deep' kiss––"
"What?"
"What?"
"..."
"..."
The cringe embarrassment for blurting her feelings out loud was enough to completely numb the pain from the poison.
As for Stehno, she couldn't help but to think of how annoying this homicidal stalker is—as the growing urge to spit out the lollipop and the lingering saliva in her mouth became stronger. "You're really pitiful, you know that-"
In almost an instant, Oren had already created a big distance gap between her and Stehno. On her hand was a handgun equipped with a silencer, powerfully held, led, and pointed toward her opposition.
The air was still and silent, with only the faint rustling leaves of the street's trees to break the quiet. But in an instant, that peace was shattered by an echo of a faint, sharp crack.
An acrid smell of gunpowder followed the trailing lead, traveling out from a dampening silencer barrel to be on its way to Stehno's head at a lethal speed of 365 meters per seconds.
With such a velocity, any normal person's fate would have already been set into stone when the bullet's path was aligned with its target. This information had already been ingrained in Oren's eyes, who saw no imperfection in her action.
Just at the nanosecond before the bullet hit its course, an afterimage was left behind for the lead to pulverize. Meanwhile, the real Stehno had already moved away from the line of fire, sprinting and hunching forward like a dire wolf with eyes on her prey.
Confused and pressured, Oren began blasting more projectiles onto the pursuing monster.
Just like before, every bullet was avoided as if the monster possessed an uncanny ability to predict their trajectories, effortlessly sidestepping them like a graceful dancer on a well-rehearsed stage.
Then again, the speeding of a bullet should be faster than a human body's peak physical condition to react to projectiles...
"Merde! What kind of mutant are you!?"
With enough closed distance between the two, Stehno hurled a clenched punch. It was only an inch away from Oren's anguished expression, before the hand transformed into an open palm.
The grasping hand almost instantly turned half of Oren's vision into an obscured total darkness.
"Hmmmph!?"
Concurrently, Oren saw her hands oppressively bound, wrapped, and constricted through the gap of the fingers on her face—powerless like the prey of a hungry snake. She could feel some cracking on her wrist, but the paralyzing effect from the poison numbed any sensation.
At the same time, she couldn't help but notice the soft and huge melons that were pressed against her back, letting her discern the position of that inhumane freak.
"FN Five-seveN with a suppressor. Hmmm, not bad." Stehno smirked, visibly happy and interested in the firearm as she grabbed both of Oren's wrists into the air. "It fires the 5.7x28mm cartridge, which offers high velocity and relatively low recoil, along with unique advantages, such as high capacity and armor-piercing capabilities for a handgun."
The grip tightened its hold.
"It also has limitations." Stehno continued to aggressively whisper in Oren's ears. "Its smaller caliber may result in reduced terminal effectiveness compared to larger calibers for certain defensive applications. As with any firearm, proper training, adherence to safety protocols, and compliance with local laws and regulations are crucial.
"But seeing how well-maintained this friend of yours is, I'm glad that it has found its rightful owner who knows best of its potential."
Her words were akin to a fly that had crawled into her ears and buzzed its wings without any signs of stopping. But as much as Oren wanted to resist and decrease this torturing whisper, any ounce of strength she had left had been sapped.
"Regardless."
Stehno empowered her grasp on Oren's wrists.
"HMMMMMMMMMMMMPFHHH!!!!!"
The disturbing, cracking sound reverberated into Oren's shoulder.
Stehno then released her grip on her prey's wrists, letting them fall like a ragdoll.
"Reminiscent of that Snow White who gnaw upon the poisonous apple." Soon, Stehno slid both of her arms back, placing them onto Oren's neck. "I wish you a peaceful rest—six feet under."