As Uche stood there, staring at the round-bellied man who had just emerged from the restroom, he felt a wave of doubt wash over him.
Had he made a mistake? Was this really the man he had been tracking? Just moments ago, he had seen a sharply dressed young man in a pair of polished brown shoes and black suit, slip into the restroom, and he was sure that he had not lost his target. But as he examined the man before him, the uncertainty gnawed at him.
Could it be that the bastard was playing tricks on him? Uche's imagination began to run wild. What if Snowflake had the ability to shapeshift? The thought sent shivers down his spine.
After all, how else could he have eluded the police for so long, If he possessed such a power, then his true identity would remain a mystery, allowing him to operate in the shadows without fear of capture, just as he had done in the past before going into his hiatus.
Uche dismissed the idea of shapeshifting, unwilling to accept the possibility that such a phenomenon could exist. The implications were terrifying; if the man could change his appearance at will, Uche would not only fail to retrieve his eye but Snowflake will also be invincible and a become a living disaster.
He decided not to attack the annoying man and Instead, he decided to apologize and explain the situation, hoping to glean some information about the elusive figure he believed was responsible for his misfortune.
But the man didn't give Uche any chance to continue his gibberish, assuming that he had lost his sanity and rushed out of the restroom to fetch the cops.
Uche wanted to chase after him, to stop him and explain himself, but just then, something caught his eye. There, beneath the dim restroom lights, were a pair of polished brown shoes peeking out from beneath door, alongside the unmistakable outline of a black suit.
"Snowflake, is it? Or should I call you the Corpse Art Killer? Which one do you prefer?"
Uche taunted with a smirk. He had realized his mistake—he didn't lost his target and instead, had approached the wrong door.
---
In the restroom, Kante stood motionless, his eyes glazed over as he stared blankly into space. He had been frozen in place since the commotion outside began, hearing the distant sounds of shouting and banging. Initially, he had thought it was just his victim's relative, moaning in grief. But the realization that someone had followed him all the way from the fiftieth floor began to gnaw at him.
"Who is this person?"
He pondered, his mind racing.
Kante had always prided himself on being meticulous, careful, and evasive. He was sure no one had been tailing him, no one was with him at the rooftop, apart from the deceased woman, his victim, no one had seen him commit his crime.
But who's that bastard shouting outside, how did he know he was the killer, how did he know me as Snowflake and Corpse Art killer.
Several thoughts surface through his head, but he remain calm, contrast to the bastard who banging the restroom door.
He wondered if he had been with him on the rooftop and have seen him kill the woman.
"Judging by his character, he would have intrrvened if he was there at the rooftop."
Kante mused, considering the man's demeanor.
If the man was really there when he was carrying out his operation, he's sure that the idiot would try to stop him, judging by his act now.
"Unless he feared for his own life. But no, I doubt he's afraid of death."
A sense of wariness gripped him.
The way the man is talking, and his words, it's almost as he had been tracking him from the past, tracking all his operations while finding the past scene to challenge him.
But Kante still doubt that.
"You know, Snowflake, I don't mind you killing people here and there; they're your kind, after all. But my eye—you need to return it to me and let me live in peace, everything else is out of my concern."
Uche's voice echoed through the restroom lobby, causing Kante to instinctively touch his eye in confusion.
"What does he mean by my eye? What is he talking about?"
---
Uche's frustration peaked as he continued banging on the door, shouting for the man to come out. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and the tension in the air felt electric.
"Aren't you going to come out? Or do I need to call the cops?"
Just then, the door swung open, and a group of seven cops rushed in, all clad in black, pistols aimed directly at Uche.
"Yes, that's him! I don't know if he's gone crazy or if he's truly the killer, but you need to arrest him!"
The round-bellied man shouted as he reentered the restroom.
Uche's heart sank as he stared at the officers, realization dawning on him, he had completely forgot the man's claim of going to call the cops. Before he could utter a word in his defense, they surrounded him, handcuffing him with a forceful grip.
"No, wait! I saw him!"
Uche protested, desperation creeping into his voice.
"I'm not the killer!"
"He has brown shoes and a black suit!"
"Please, just hear me out!"
But his words fell on deaf ears as he was roughly shoved out of the restroom, the cops ignoring his frantic attempts to explain.
---
Kante let out a sigh of relief as the pesky man was finally taken away.
"So, he knew about me but didn't know my real identity. Interesting."
He thought, feeling a strange sense of triumph.
"I've done well over the years to protect my identity, so it wouldn't be easy for someone to expose me like this."
Yet, unease settled over him as he recalled Uche's words.
"But it made me wonder, how did he find out, how did know about me. He called me Snowflake and Corpse Art Killer. How troublesome."
He thought about it for a while, as he adjust he dress, he couldn't just let it slide like that, he felt something is really wrong, for someone to find out about him.
Then, he remember he heard the man saying something about his eyes.
"Is it perhaps related to the surgery?"
"Was his eyes transplanted to me during that surgery? And somehow, he could see true it. This is worrying."
Then something clicked in his head as he adjusted the glass that etched on his nose.
"The song, that song by lonely guitar man, my left eye always reacts to it whenever it's been played, and that bitch happens to use it as her ring tone."