28 November 2000

New York was going through a quiet period that year. It was the end of November and the state elections had just concluded. But none of this mattered to Andrew, because it was his last day in the city. He began to observe his surroundings; a small child was running around while a man in a black hoodie stood next to him. His gaze fixed on the boy. A tear rolled down his cheek and he whispered, 'Let's get this over with...'

***

"As long as you don't change your path, it doesn't matter how slow you go. I used to tell you these words of Tolstoy even when you were a baby. I hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to do, son. Remember, if making others happy makes you happy, there's still hope for humanity..."

These words were from Alex's father, Andrew, in the last letter he had written. When Alex was ten, his father had taken him to the park, hugged him tightly, and then mysteriously disappeared. People believed Andrew had taken his own life, unable to bear the loss of his wife. However, Alex always believed in his family and never gave up on them. This tragic event deeply influenced the career he would choose and the greatest purpose in his life.

 -10 Years Later-

"Another day in New York, not a bad time to try our luck, right?" These were Alex's words as he spoke to his alarm while getting out of bed. He felt good today—maybe today he could make some progress. He got out of bed and went down to the basement of his house. When he uncovered the papers he'd kept hidden, he saw everything was in place. Aside from a few papers with his family's names on them, a charcoal drawing of a man who looked like him, a man in a black hoodie, and a letter, there was nothing else.

"Let's see. All we have as concrete evidence is this letter, and no matter how amazing my skills are, they're not helping. So, it's not such a great day after all. Damn you, New York!" Alex had gained fame at the age of 15 for solving cases that had been closed due to lack of evidence. But the only case this young detective couldn't crack was his own family. He had never known his mother, but he remembered how his father always looked at her picture. The ringing phone pulled him out of his thoughts; he'd have to think about this another time.

"Well, well, you actually managed to wake up this morning," said the voice on the phone—it was Jessy. In addition to becoming a detective at an early age, he also had an intern.

"Good morning to you too, Jessy. Don't forget the coffee on your way in, two sugars as always." Although Alex found Jessy a bit odd, he enjoyed spending time with her. In truth, Jessy felt the same way about Alex, but neither of them could admit it to the other.

"Sugary coffee—" Jessy's sentence was cut short; Alex had already hung up the phone. After carefully covering the papers in the basement, he started getting ready to head to the station.

Upon arriving at the precinct, he scanned his card at the lobby and started walking toward his desk. When he reached his desk, he noticed something odd: the case files he had finished just yesterday were still there. "Hey George, I finished these cases. Why are they still here?"

His colleague shouted from a distance, "You're gonna put us out of work, kid! If we submit your case files, we'll get another warning! Go find some cases in other districts, you're free today."

Alex had expected this reaction. He had solved almost every case in the past month. As he headed down to the parking lot and was about to call Jessy, he noticed the young woman approaching through the rearview mirror. Jessy, with her morning energy, was running up with coffee cups in her hands.

"Hey, you can't play detective without caffeine!" Jessy's voice had become a familiar tune for Alex. He wondered when he had started trusting this intern so much.

"Ah, thanks. Though, you know, your voice alone has a caffeine effect, right?" Jessy quickly settled into the car with her fit frame, arranging the coffee cups, and replied with a smile.

"You're welcome. You're being rude again, but I'm not one to let it bother me."

"Oh, how lucky I am to have such an intern." After making his final checks, Alex started the car. A new day was beginning—or maybe the same day was repeating itself. He was always caught between these two notions. "So, what do we

Jessy quickly opened the terminal in the car and began looking through the cases. "Murder, murder, and more murder. There's a robbery case in between. What do you think, Sherlock? Anything catching your interest?" Alex had already gone over these cases in the morning. Thanks to the evidence he'd provided, they were close to being solved

"I reported the robbery case early this morning. Did you know the thief is one of the store employees? If we give this info to Santa Claus, we'll make a bit more of a name for ourselves. Now, let's look at those murder cases." 'Santa Claus' was Alex's nickname for his supervisor. He had violated the rules so many times that he wasn't on the best terms with his boss, but he couldn't resist using the nickname due to the man's rather sympathetic

While driving, Alex continued reviewing the cases on the terminal. Meanwhile, Jessy was sipping her coffee, unintentionally memorizing the details of the cases. Her memory was one of her greatest strengths; Alex had never seen anyone with a memory as sharp as hers

"Check this out," Jessy said excitedly. "The body parts from the explosion on 15th Street last night are still being collected."

Alex scanned the screen for more details. Jessy began voicing her thoughts out loud. "There's only one body at the scene. If there are this many pieces, it must have been an internal explosion." When Alex confirmed her theory, she continued, "The strange thing is, there's no trace of an explosive inside the body that could've caused such a massive blast. That makes this case perfect for you."

Alex grinned at Jessy and took a sip of his coffee. "I completely agree... Hey, wait a second! I told you, two sugars!"

 *******

Alex and Jessy arrived at the scene to find the forensics team still hard at work, and the police units carefully patrolling the street, which had been completely cordoned off. As they entered the street, it didn't take long to spot the officer in charge. Police Chief Mark was always someone who relished taking charge and giving orders. As Alex watched him, he thought to himself that if the man gained any more weight, he'd surpass Santa Claus himself.

"Well, well, look who we have here! Our famous young detective and his trusty intern, out in the field again. Planning to make the papers again, kid?" Chief Mark said in a slightly mocking tone. Despite how irritating Mark could be, Alex couldn't help but respect him for the kindness he had shown his father over the years.

"Maybe," Alex replied with a sly smile. "I could talk about how magnificent your belly looks at the crime scene."

Mark let out a short laugh and responded, "You never change, kid. Don't give me that look; do whatever you want, but the case will be handed over to the feds soon. It's a bit complicated, you see."

The fact that the case was soon to be out of the police's hands only made Alex more excited. It meant the challenge ahead would be tougher, which was exactly what he was looking for. "I've looked over the details, anything else we should know?" he asked, trying to hide his curiosity.

After giving a few more orders to the nearby officers, Mark answered, "No, no explosives have been found. But apparently, two suspicious individuals were seen here last night, besides the victim. Each witness description of them is different, though. One of the descriptions even looks a bit like you. Maybe this tub of lard should be interrogating you!" Mark finished his sentence with a laugh, just as Jessy rejoined them. Alex hadn't even noticed when she left their side.

"The victim's identity hasn't been found yet. They're saying even the DNA structure was damaged. Whatever chemical they used, it's really fascinating," Alex said, trying to piece everything together. Despite his best efforts, none of it made sense. There was only one thing left: using his mysterious ability, the one he reserved for unsolvable cases.

As Alex turned to examine the traces, Mark went back to his team to give more orders. Once he was gone, Alex began to speak: "If the FBI is getting involved, there's definitely something they want to cover up. I'm going to solve this before they arrive." Jessy wasn't surprised by this. When Alex was only seventeen, he had solved a case with almost no evidence in just one day. Although Jessy admired his talent, she always wondered how he managed to do it.

"I know you're a maniac, but this is impossible," Jessy said. "There's no detail left. There's only a rumor about whether there was even a killer. There's not even any chemical to disrupt the body's homeostatic balance."

Alex smiled, "Don't worry. Just trust my instincts, Jessy."

Jessy replied sarcastically, "So what? Should I write in my notes that 'Mr. Detective solved the case in a cool way, just by his instincts'?"

"You can decorate it like Arthur Conan Doyle, of course. I give you permission. Follow me, Miss Watson." Jessy often compared Alex to Sherlock Holmes when it came to solving cases, but Alex's gift had nothing to do with that. He had an ability related to time; he could visualize events as if he were reliving them and would keep at it until he solved the mystery. To him, it was like being a superhero, but to do it, he needed to physically feel the location. He never spoke of it, though, to avoid being labeled a lunatic.

"Why did I choose this career instead of being a writer?" Jessy muttered to herself as Alex quickly walked ahead. They moved through two streets, Alex running his hands along the walls as if following someone. When they reached a dead-end alley, Alex stopped, staring up at the roof of a building with curiosity.

"This is strange. How could someone jump from here to the roof?" He looked around, then fixed his gaze on the empty roof again. "Why would they wait up there?"

Every time Jessy saw Alex like this, it reminded her of a ghost hunter. "Why don't you ask that ghost you're following if they'll be voting this year?"

Alex, still staring blankly into the air, responded, "Don't worry, the administration will vote for them."

"If only you could keep your sanity intact until my internship is over," Jessy muttered, just as Alex suddenly stopped in his tracks. Something was off; even Jessy could feel it. When Alex turned around, the calm expression on his face was gone.

Something was terribly wrong, and suddenly he yelled, "Jessy, get behind me now! He's still here!" Alex quickly drew his gun from its holster and moved in front of Jessy.

"Alex, calm down, there's nothing her—" Jessy's words were cut off by the voice of the man who had just jumped from the rooftop.

As if nothing had happened, the mysterious man, who had leaped down from the six-meter-high building, began speaking with a strange English accent, "Actually, he's right, dear Jessy. After all, one must listen to the words of the Heir of Time." As the man emerged from the shadows, his features became clearer as he approached Alex.

Jessy, shocked by the man's casual leap from the roof, murmured, "This is impossible! How did you..."

Alex remained focused; there was someone he had to protect, and he wasn't going to let his guard down. "One more step, and it'll be your last!" The mysterious figure stopped, his face now fully visible in the sunlight. He looked like he had stepped out of a movie, with his gray hair and sunglasses, standing directly across from Alex.

"That was a terrible entrance, wasn't it? But no worries, we can fix that," the stranger said, tossing flower petals into the air from the pocket of his black shirt. Alex fired before the petals could land, but as his eyes closed, everything went dark...

 ****

Alex's eyes fluttered open to a pair of bright white ones staring back at him; this was the first time he had seen the stranger without his glasses. The surroundings were dark; he could only make out the outlines of the chair he was bound to.

"You know, if you had even the slightest awareness of your abilities, you wouldn't be in this situation right now."

"Ah, my eyes! Damn it, who are you?" Alex struggled to look around but could see nothing but darkness.

"For now, you can call me Marco. I imagine you're curious about why I brought you here and why the dead man was blown to pieces like a bomb," Marco said, his tone unsettlingly calm.

Alex wanted to respond but opted for silence.

Here's the translation of this passage:

"I've been following you for a long time. I've come to many conclusions from that. The most important one is that you've never developed your abilities. All you do is replay past events in your mind. That makes you harmless and an easy target. Lucky for you, I'm here, right?" Marco's sentence ended with a strange smile, making Alex start to think that this man wasn't normal. But what was even stranger was how he knew about Alex's abilities. Who was this man really?

"This is impossible! How do you... What kind of sick person are you?"

"I suppose that's one way to say thank you," Marco muttered with a faint smile. "Oh, why can a student choose their teacher, but a teacher can't choose their student? Truly unfair. As for what kind of sick person I am, you can think of me as one of your own—a freak, just like you." Seeing Alex's stunned expression, Marco continued without hesitation. "Yes, I know you've felt like a freak for a long time, Alex." Marco's voice was softer now, but the mocking undertone grated on Alex's nerves. He swallowed his anger, because Marco's words hit him deeply.

"I'm just a simple detective chasing cases. Whatever you think I am, you're wrong, Marco. Sorry, but you've got the wrong guy. Now let me go." Alex spoke as if he was trying to convince himself, but deep down, he knew such a huge coincidence couldn't be real. The hesitation in his voice brought with it the questions swirling in his mind.

"I also know you only use these cases to distract yourself. Every day, you're barely holding on, trying not to lose your mind... People see you as strong and in control from the outside, but they have no idea about the storms raging inside you"

Alex fell silent again. He knew that something was wrong with this world, but he had only ever found the oddities within himself. Still, that wasn't enough for him; the man in front of him knew exactly how to push his buttons, and it was working. Suddenly, Alex began shouting. "If you know so much about me, who I am, then tell me, damn it! Do you know what it's like to look at your family's picture every day and feel like you're their disgrace? Do you know what it's like to be a child ignored after defending his father from false accusations all his life? You're a freak just like me; we don't belong in this world!"

After Alex vented his anger, Marco calmly continued: "If you want to learn the truth about Andrew, you'll have to accept your differences."

When Alex heard his father's name, it felt like time stopped. He had believed in him all his life. His curiosity, once raging like madness, now turned into the eager wonder of a child. "How do you know my father?"

Marco leaned back and sighed. "That's another long story... Look, kid, the first thing you need to know are the rules. If you want answers, you'll have to find them yourself. You're special, and that's why I've been protecting you from many dangers for nearly ten years."

"But why me? What can a man who only sees the past do? Who would care about me this much?"

Marco burst into laughter at this. "Only the past? That's just the tip of the iceberg. Like I said, you'll figure it out for yourself." Although Alex knew that what Marco was saying was impossible, he chose to focus on the man rather than deny it. For the first time, he wasn't alone—he had found someone else with special abilities like his. Maybe Marco was right. Maybe he could do what Marco said. Even if it was just a glimmer of hope, Alex wanted to cling to it. But how was he going to manage it?

"I don't know who you are or why you're doing this, but if there's even the slightest chance for my family, I'll chase it. What do I need to do?" Something deep inside him warned him that this path wouldn't be easy.

"The reason I've come to meet you today is exactly that. I'm here to invite you to an academy designed to develop people like you—people with special abilities. You're lucky—I'm giving you a choice: either you join us, or I'll execute you as a potential threat. The choice is yours. And by the way, you'll have the best teacher." Marco put his hands in his pockets and gave Alex a look that clearly said, That's me.

"What about Jessy?"

"Oh, her? She's seen too much, I'll take care of her execution, don't worry." The grin on Marco's face was enough to make Alex not take him seriously. "Aah, don't you have a sense of humor? This generation is so different. Don't worry, I've got plans for her too." Just as Alex was about to respond, he didn't notice Marco reaching into his jacket pocket again. It was happening again...

****

After his conversation with Marco, Alex found himself back in his bed. The first thing he did was try to call Jessy, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach her. As days passed, he became lost in uncertainty, unsure if what he had experienced was a dream or reality. All he wanted were answers, but all he found were more questions and silence. When he couldn't get the information he needed from the police station, he locked himself away at home, and in this period, his biggest comfort was alcohol.

When the meaningless questions that echoed in his mind finally started to fade, an idea formed: if Marco thought he was so valuable, he wouldn't let him die. But could Alex really do it? He pulled his gun from the drawer of his bedside table and stood in front of the mirror. He didn't know what he was doing; he cursed himself for losing his mind so quickly. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe everything that had happened was just a dream. To figure that out, he needed to point the gun at his head.

With grim thoughts, he began raising the gun to his forehead, but just at that moment, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, and they suddenly shut. He felt as though the sink in front of him was pulling him in, like he was being dragged down into deep, dark depths...

End of Chapter 1