The dense fog wrapped around him like an ominous shroud. He squinted through the mist, noticing a shadowy figure approaching him. "Who are you, and where am I? I need to get back home," he called out, his voice tinged with desperation. But no reply came. He tried again, his words echoing in the cold air, but still, no answer. The figure continued to approach, and with a growing sense of unease, he pulled out his revolver, aiming it at the stranger, ready to threaten them. Yet, the figure remained silent, undeterred by the threat.
Suddenly, his vision began to blur. He stumbled back, his heart racing as a strange fear gripped him. Was this figure somehow manipulating him? He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision, but it only made things worse. A sharp pain surged through his eyes, causing him to scream out in agony. Every second felt like an hour, the pain unbearable. But just as suddenly as the pain had come, it faded, and he woke up startled gasping for breath.
He looked around, disoriented. His gaze landed on the ancient wooden desk where he worked, then shifted to the small kitchen across the room. The stove was still warm, the faint heat still lingering in the air. That was odd—he had cooked his meal hours ago, yet it was still burning. His eyes flicked to the wall clock—2:23 AM. Something didn't add up. Had someone else been in here after him? His mind felt like a blank slate, trying to make sense of the situation. The silence hung thick, and after a few moments, he muttered to himself, "What was that? My eyes were burning... I saw some strange figure... I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman..."
He gazed out the window at the moon, its light still as beautiful as ever. "You're as gorgeous as always," he whispered, smiling softly. "I don't know why people always associate you with darkness." The moon shone brightly, not a cloud in sight, its glow undisturbed.
Then, the shrill ring of his landline phone shattered the stillness. He jumped, startled by the unexpected interruption. Annoyance crept in, but his curiosity outweighed it. Who would be calling at this hour? He groggily got out of bed, but as he did, the bed collapsed beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor. His joints ached as he tried to get up, supporting himself with his arm before answering the call.
A woman's voice came through the receiver, "Hold yourself together, detective. You may be a detective, but you don't make enough money to even buy a decent bed."
The detective froze, shocked. How did she know what had just happened to him? He didn't hesitate to respond, his voice sharp with suspicion. "Who are you? How do you know what just happened to me? Are you stalking me? And let me be clear, I'm a respectable detective, I'm not interested in someone like you."
The woman's voice turned serious, "Detective, I wasn't asking for your opinion. I'm warning you. You're heading down the wrong path."
He was confused, trying to make sense of her words. "What do you mean?"
She replied coolly, "You don't need to know the truth about the realms. Thousands have tried to get involved with this profession and all of them died. If you follow through with this, you'll meet the same fate."
The detective's brow furrowed. "Are you worried about me? I don't even know you."
The woman laughed softly before saying, "Who said I'm worried about you? I've made the same warning to countless others. No one listened. They all died within two months. Don't be a hero. Just stay a detective. Solve murder cases, not the world's problems."
The detective chuckled, his laughter low at first, then it grew louder, almost manic. His demeanor shifted, and a glint of something unhinged shone in his eyes. "Let's make a bet," he said, his voice laced with dark amusement. "If I somehow survive the next two months and manage to figure out who you are, you'll tell me everything you know. All the secrets you're hiding."
The woman on the other end of the line was silent for a moment, then spoke with disbelief, "How can someone be so crazy? You don't know me, you don't have any clues, and yet you're betting your life on this. You're convinced you'll survive? Fine. If you manage to live and figure me out, I'll tell you everything. But I'm certain you'll be dead by then."
With that, she ended the call, leaving only a message: "I am the one who's with you, but not with you. Find me, if you can."
The detective smirked, the edge of his smile revealing a hint of something darker. "You've picked the wrong person to mess with."