The vision was blurry, like an old photograph slowly losing its clarity. A girl and a boy were playing in a garden, their laughter ringing through the air as they interacted with the world around them. The boy, hunched over, was meticulously crafting something out of trash that the girl had brought him. With delicate hands, he shaped the scraps into something beautiful like a doll, lovingly fashioned from discarded materials. The girl's eyes sparkled with joy as she held the creation in her hands, her smile wide with adoration for the boy's craft.
Suddenly, the moment was shattered by a faint noise—like the sound of a file dropping on the floor. Ren's eyes snapped open, and the image of the garden, the girl, and the boy evaporated into nothingness. He found himself back in the office room, a dimly lit room he had been in for hours.
"Mr. Ren, it seems the sky is clear today. A perfect day, in fact," his personal assistant, Yukio, remarked, his voice light and matter-of-fact.
Ren didn't look at him as he spoke, his gaze distant, as if still tethered to the remnants of his fleeting dream. "Well, it's a perfect day to have a nightmare," he muttered dryly.
Yukio blinked in confusion. He didn't quite understand the meaning behind his boss's cryptic words, but he had long since learned to not question Ren's strange mood shifts. It wasn't his place to pry.
"Anything urgent today, sir?" Yukio asked, quickly moving past the comment.
Ren paused for a beat and spoke. "Just... keep things moving. Auction prep. Let's keep it clean."
Yukio nodded and busied himself with organizing the details of Ren's upcoming exhibition. On the other side of the city, in a cluttered office filled with stacks of case files, Detective Ahmad and his team were deep in discussion, their voices low but tense.
"I don't think Whispering Abyss would do something like that," said Assistant 1, shaking his head.
"I disagree. There's something off about him. It feels like he's hiding something. Like he's always up to something," Assistant 2 countered, his voice edged with suspicion.
"Yeah, because all artists are up to something, right?" Assistant 1 retorted sarcastically.
At that, Detective Ahmad broke his silence, his gravelly voice commanding the room's attention. "He's no ordinary man. He hides something deep down. How can someone be this charitable? How can one person donate so much, so consistently, without anyone really knowing why?" His eyes narrowed, a flicker of doubt in them.
Assistant 1 raised an eyebrow. "He's been doing it for years. So what's so suspicious about it?"
Ahmad's lips twisted into a knowing smile. "It's what he's been doing all along. There's a bigger picture here. One that we haven't yet seen."
With that, he abruptly stood, signaling the end of the conversation. "Look into the connections. Check if there's anyone linked to the victim, and especially Richard. I want a full report when I get back."
He left the room with purpose, dialing a number as he exited. The phone rang twice before someone picked up.
"Hello, can we meet now?" Ahmad asked sharply, before hanging up without waiting for a response.
Meanwhile, back at Ren's gallery, the preparations for his auction were well underway. His personal assistant, Yukio, was overseeing the final touches, ensuring everything was perfect for the high-profile guests expected to attend. It wasn't long before Ren appeared, sliding into the room with his usual nonchalance.
"Wow! Mr. Yukio, you're really good at this," Ren said, flashing a broad smile and giving a thumbs-up as he surveyed the scene.
Despite his cold, almost lifeless exterior to the world, Ren was different with those he trusted. With children, and with his assistant, he was gentle, kind-hearted, and even had a surprising sense of humor. He wasn't the stoic artist people assumed him to be. His charitable works had made headlines, with nearly 70% of his earnings from his artwork donated to various causes, including NGOs and cancer treatment for children. The press loved him, and his fanbase adored him for his humility and generosity.
"Nothing was mine from the start," he often said. "I just gave it back to those who needed it most."
His words had garnered him an immense following and a large amount of merchandise. But with such influence, naturally, enemies arose. Ren's generosity made many artists jealous, some of whom resented him for his success, including Richard, who seemed to harbor more than just jealousy.
Just as Yukio was about to respond, a light tap on Ren's shoulder made him turn around. A young woman stood there, dressed in a chic outfit, her eyes sparkling with admiration. She hesitated for a moment before asking shyly, "Mr. Whispering Abyss, I'm such a huge fan. Could I please have your autograph?"
Ren smiled faintly, taking the notebook from her and signing it with a swift, practiced motion. He handed it back, and the woman's face lit up with joy. "Thank you so much!" she exclaimed before quickly walking away.
As she left, Ren's gaze flickered across the room to two men watching him intently from a distance. Something felt off, but he quickly pushed the feeling aside but the moment felt off.
The auction was just about to begin, and all eyes were on Ren as he took the stage. His newest collection, his greatest works, would be put on display for the highest bidders. The room fell into hushed anticipation.
As expected, the moment Ren unveiled his artwork, the crowd was captivated. Each piece was a masterpiece, drawing gasps of awe. His two most unique pieces—a handbag made entirely of hair, and a hand crafted from nails—seemed to hold a particular allure. The handbag went for a staggering 30 million dollars, while the nail-hand fetched an even higher price: 53 million dollars.
The atmosphere was electric, but not everyone was celebrating. Among the attendees, two familiar faces lingered in the shadows—Detective Ahmad's assistants. They had been watching Ren with suspicion from the moment he stepped into the gallery. As soon as the auction ended and the room began to clear, one of them made a beeline for the exit. They didn't even wait for the others to leave.
"Sir, the hand was bought by someone else," one of the assistants said over the phone, his voice tense.
Ahmad's voice came through, calm and deliberate. "Good. Head back to the office. I have something to show you."
As they hung up, the two assistants exchanged a meaningful glance, and then left the room, their eyes lingering on Whispering Abyss before they disappeared into the crowd.
It was clear that the night's events had only just begun.