"This is something catastrophically horrifying to the point where it's hard to believe what has just happened here."
A journalist stood at the edge of a beach, ready to narrate the events that had unfolded behind him. Once a serene vacation spot, the area was now cordoned off with yellow police tape. A large number of officers combed the site with flashlights and police dogs, methodically searching for clues. Scattered across the sand were remnants of clothing and ominous traces of blood glistening under the faint light of the approaching dawn.
"It is believed that just a few hours ago, a mass murder took place here. However, no bodies have been recovered, and despite the police's extensive efforts, they have found no leads," the journalist reported.
The live broadcast was being watched by many throughout the city, even in the early hours of the morning. This was far from a simple coincidence.
"Dad, isn't this strange?"
"Why do you say that, sweetheart?"
"How could someone commit such a heinous act and not leave any trace behind?"
"That's a good question, but isn't it obvious? Have you forgotten what happened a few years ago?"
"You mean… what happened with those high school students?"
"That's right."
"So, do you think this is somehow connected to that incident?"
"I can't say for sure, but the similarity is… chilling."
A middle-aged man sat in his living room, discussing the broadcast with his daughter. His thoughts were echoed by the murmurs of onlookers at the crime scene, gathered just beyond the police tape.
"This is terrifying, isn't it? It's exactly like what happened at that school."
"You're right. I'd bet this was done by the same person. It's almost identical."
"The only difference is that this time, the police couldn't even locate the bodies. It's as if whoever did this has refined their methods of carrying out these grim acts."
"Now that I think about it, you're right. When the school incident happened, the police found the bodies at first, but then they vanished without a trace."
A group of older women stood nearby, chatting nervously as they tried to connect the dots between the current tragedy and the past one.
"For my part," one woman interjected, "I think this is the work of that deranged detective. Or have you all forgotten him?"
Her words cast an eerie silence over the group.
"You think he's responsible for this?"
"Without a doubt. He was the only one who survived from that group of detectives, and conveniently, he blacked out right when all the bodies disappeared. Doesn't that strike you as suspicious?"
"Well, yes, but don't forget—he was the first to mention what everyone's talking about now. Maybe he wasn't just some lunatic after all."
"That's true… But where is he now? He simply vanished. That only strengthens my belief that he's the prime suspect in this crime and the one involving those high school students."
"What saddens me the most," another woman chimed in, "is how the police arrived late to the scene again. Nobody would have even known about this if it weren't for the neighbors reporting the blood and the sudden disappearance of the people who were here."
The women slowly began to nod, finding merit in the spontaneous addition to their conversation. Standing a short distance behind them was a hooded man. His pale skin, thin frame, and long blonde hair brushing against his neck made him stand out. He sipped from a paper coffee cup, seemingly lost in his thoughts.
"Damn it… If only I had gotten here sooner, maybe none of this would have happened..."
He murmured to himself, his voice low and filled with regret. Suddenly, he crushed the cup in his hand and hurled it to the ground, storming off without another word. The abrupt motion drew uncomfortable stares from the group of women, who stopped their conversation to watch him leave.