"The Lord hath bestowed upon me thine mortal sin, for blessings remain worthless to the sinless..."
This was the only visible text on the script lying on the desk. Alicia's gaze, however, was fixed on the piece of paper obscuring the rest of the manuscript.
On that paper, a few haunting words were scrawled:
I will be back shortly. I'm going to look for any clues to my parents' death...
Her heart clenched painfully, and tears welled up in her eyes, streaming down her face.
"Sorry… I'm so sorry, Markiv…" she murmured, her voice trembling with guilt. The weight of her remorse crushed her spirit, carving deep fissures into her soul. But there was no consolation to be found—no absolution for the choices she had made. The sins one commits must inevitably be borne alone.
Her thoughts spiraled in turmoil, her regret mounting with every passing moment. She should have stopped him. She should have fought harder. But now, Markiv was gone, and her world was crumbling around her.
Alicia leaned over the desk, her head bowed, tears dripping onto the paper as despair consumed her. All she wanted was for him to be safe, far from the chaos and cruelty of this world. But it seemed fate had other plans, and destiny was as merciless as the world itself.
As she sank further into her grief, a sharp, distinct sound broke through her fog of anguish—the steady roll of carriage wheels along the cobblestone street.
Startled, she raised her head and peered out of the window. A police carriage moved purposefully through the dimly lit road, its wheels crunching against the wet stones. Her eyes instinctively sought the silhouette behind the carriage's small, rain-splattered window.
Her breath caught. That face...
Her heart plummeted, yet desperation and a flicker of courage flared within her.
"Veerang…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as the faint glow of determination returned to her tear-streaked face.
---
Veerang climbed the creaking, narrow staircase to the second floor of the dilapidated house. The air was heavy with the scent of mold and decay. Reaching the sole door on the floor, he hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.
Inside, the sight was grim and unnerving. A man with long, jet-black hair cascading to his shoulders sat stiffly on a chair. His head was twisted grotesquely toward the door, wide-open eyes staring lifelessly, blood streaking down his pale face. His chest did not rise, nor did his body betray the faintest sign of life.
Markiv Albet...
Veerang furrowed his brows and turned toward one of the constables, who was busy inspecting the sparsely furnished room for anything unusual. "How long has he been like this?" Veerang asked.
"About an hour or so, sir," the constable replied, his tone uneasy.
Veerang's gaze hardened. "And why did you enter this house without proper authorization?"
The constable froze and then looked to his left, as though searching for an excuse. Veerang followed his gaze and spotted a man in his mid-twenties casually strolling about the room. The man's carefree demeanor stood in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere.
As he passed by the corpse, the young man paused, eyeing it with curiosity. Then, with an almost mischievous grin, he placed a hand on the dead man's shoulder.
The corpse slumped to the side and toppled onto the floor, the sound of its fall sickening. Blood splattered across the wooden planks, drawing gasps from the constables.
"Oops!" the young man said nonchalantly, stepping back to allow the constables to recover the body.
The room buzzed with movement as the officers rushed to place the corpse on a stretcher. Meanwhile, the young man turned his attention to Veerang, who stood silently, his cold gaze fixed on him.
"Yo, Veerang! Long time no see!" The man waved cheerfully.
"Sir Roberto," Veerang said icily, "why are you here? I don't recall you having jurisdiction in this area."
"Oh, come on, Veer! We're friends, aren't we?" Roberto replied, his tone teasing.
"No. I prefer not to associate with the Inquisitors of Anksh."
"Says the child of inquisition!" Roberto laughed, a mocking edge to his voice.
Veerang's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here, Roberto? This is your last chance to answer."
Roberto raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin never leaving his face. "Alright, alright! No need to get so tense." He leaned in slightly. "Well, I just found this case interesting. No? First, the brother disappears, and the sister files a missing report. Then, she also goes missing when we tried looking for her regarding the disappearance of Professor Yohan Kant. And just as we start suspecting her, the brother reappears—only to die sitting in her room. Ain't that… strange?"
Veerang said nothing, his expression impassive, but his mind raced as he pieced together the implications.
Roberto smiled, clearly enjoying Veerang's silence.
Half an hour later, the constables finished their tasks, carrying the stretcher down the narrow stairs. Roberto trailed behind them, but as he passed Veerang, he leaned in and whispered something.
Veerang's jaw tightened, his hand twitching toward his revolver, but he restrained himself. Roberto laughed softly and disappeared down the staircase.
For a moment, Veerang was alone in the room. The oppressive stillness returned, and the shadows seemed to stretch and creep toward him. He stepped forward, standing behind the chair where the corpse had once sat.
On the table in front of him lay a clock, a few scattered books, and a diary. The sunlight streaming through the grimy window illuminated the diary's leather cover, giving it an eerie glow.
"How?" Veerang whispered, his voice barely audible. He imagined the man with long hair still sitting in the chair, staring lifelessly at the door. "How were you still alive?"
The silence offered no answer. Veerang exhaled sharply, turned on his heel, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
---
Alicia froze in her tracks when she spotted Veerang standing beside the police carriages. Officers moved about, preparing to leave. Her eyes darted to the black cloth covering the stretcher, and a cold dread gripped her heart.
She approached Veerang with hurried steps, stopping just two paces from him. Her fiery gaze locked onto his cold, indifferent eyes.
"Where is he?" she demanded, her voice trembling.
Veerang remained silent.
Frustrated by his lack of response, Alicia turned toward the stretcher. The two constables standing beside it stepped aside as she approached. Her hand reached for the cloth, but at the last moment, she froze.
Her courage faltered. Tears welled up in her eyes as the horrifying reality of her suspicions sank in.
Turning back to Veerang, her face contorted with grief and fury, she rushed at him. Her fist shot forward, but before it could connect, a hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back.
"Let me go!" Alicia screamed, struggling against the man holding her.
Roberto's smiling face appeared behind her. "Now, now, lady. Attacking an officer won't get you anywhere."
"Let go!" she shouted again, her voice hoarse with desperation.
But her strength failed her, and she collapsed into Roberto's arms, her tears falling freely.
Alicia's voice broke into a whisper. "Why? Why do you do this? You killed her first, and now you killed him too. Why, Veerang? What did they do to you? What did they ever do to deserve this?"
Her sobs filled the air as she lost consciousness.
Veerang's hand twitched at her words, but his expression remained stone-cold. Roberto raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and called out to a constable, "Take this lady into custody. She tried to assault an officer."
Veerang said nothing as the constables escorted Alicia away.
Roberto approached him, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I wonder what she was talking about. Does Sir Veerang know anything?"
Veerang didn't respond.
Roberto chuckled and leaned in. "Well, the blessed of Anksh want the girl named Atis Albet back in the capital. I just hope they don't… lose their temper when they find out someone else got their hands on her first. Right?"
Veerang's blood ran cold. Memories of a dreadful incident resurfaced, sending goosebumps across his skin.
Roberto smirked at Veerang's silence. "Well, I'll leave you to it, Sir Veerang. Don't take too long."
As Roberto disappeared, Veerang whispered to himself, "Atis Albet..."