। 'Living in 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐤𝐚 Orphanage was incredibly painful for me. There were many children, but all of them hated me. Yet, they talked to me, shared their food, and even asked me to play with them.
Isn't that painful?
They always wore kind expressions that made me uneasy. Later, I heard people call it a smile.
How terrifying they were…!
Thankfully, I was adopted by a family—one that showed me what real love was.
It was a family of three—a man, a woman, and their daughter. They were incredibly rich. I don't know why, but when they adopted me, they kept giving me their smiles. It unsettled me a little. But anyway, I moved in with them.
Their daughter was three years older than me. They hated each other, yet all of them loved me the most.
When I finally stepped into their house, they welcomed me with a hunter's whip. It was a pleasure to be greeted that way. The sting of the whip danced across my skin until my body collapsed onto the floor, trembling with delight. Then, the woman of the house grabbed me by my hair and threw me toward the dishes. In her loud, loving tone, she ordered me to clean them.
I think they wanted me to learn all kinds of work. How lovely they were!
Year after year, a ten-year-old boy like me was cherished by them.
But there was one thing I hated about that house—their daughter. She always laughed at me whenever the man and woman tried to love me.
Laughter. The most painful thing in this world. I feared people's smiles, but their laughter... that was what I hated the most.
One day, after my body stopped moving for a while, I realized their love was too much for me to bear. I had to do something so I would never forget their love.
Fortunately, once, while I was cleaning their storeroom, I found some books. Strange symbols were written on them—
G R A M M A R, W R I T I N G S K I L L S, and another title that was harder to read.
I tried reading them, but it was difficult. Still, I understood one thing—if I could learn this, I could preserve my memories. I could trap them inside words, etching them onto any piece of paper.
At last…!
I learned it. And along with that, I discovered that I could preserve my memories in an empty book called a diary, which I also found in the storeroom.
But soon, they found out that I had been learning from their daughter's books. They were furious. And they laughed at me.
The woman of the house sneered, "A slave is learning, huh?... Hahaha…"
Their daughter left the storeroom and returned with a metal rod, its tip glowing with fire. Without hesitation, she pressed it against my left eye.
The sensation of love was unbearable. My skin sizzled! My vision blurred! I clawed at my burning flesh, trying to soothe the agony. They stood around me, laughing.
Maybe they thought I couldn't endure this kind of love.
But why did they laugh?
A strange distress spread through my mind.
Does love also bring hatred? I didn't know—until that day.
The day Mr. Pain entered my life. My best friend, the one I loved the most.
What was that word? Hmmm… Yes. A bond, formed through our very souls, was created that day.
Oh, I can't wait—let me write it down.
One day, I went out to the market to fetch some supplies. I was happy—after two days, I would finally get to eat.
I covered my left eye with a scrap of cloth and walked toward the butcher's shop.
I was lost in thought. And then—
*𝗕𝘂𝗺𝗽!
I collided with a street vendor.
He screamed at me. But the moment I looked at him, his expression shifted—from anger to sheer terror. Without another word, he grabbed his wares and ran.
I realized the cloth covering my eye had slipped when I bumped into him.
I quickly pulled it back over my eye.
Then, all of a sudden, I noticed something on the ground. A mask.
Maybe the vendor had dropped it in his panic.
I picked it up. It bore a smile, but surprisingly, it didn't unsettle me. It felt… warm. Almost as if it wanted me to wear it.
I put it on.
The moment I did, I noticed the people passing by chuckling at me.
Their laughter made me angry. But I remained silent—I needed to hurry before the meat shop closed.
Then, all of a sudden…!
I heard a voice.
Someone whispered in my ear. Or maybe I only imagined it.
"I wish, I could stop their laughter..."
A chill ran down my spine.
I took the mask off my face and left it on the road before running toward the market.
Damn.
The shop was closed.
I returned to them with an empty bag.
When I returned, I found that the man and woman had gone out, but their daughter was still there.
I thought she would be angry when I handed her the empty bag. But she wasn't that type.
Instead, she swung a garden shovel straight at my head.
A sharp crack!—then warmth trickled down my forehead. The red liquid oozed onto my face. She was yelling at me, her voice loud and piercing.
But I couldn't hear a thing.
My vision wavered. My body felt heavy. Maybe... I fell asleep on that ground.
When I woke up, I found myself inside a garbage truck.
The air reeked of rot.
I tried to move, but my head throbbed violently, the pain pulsing deep inside my skull.
A little while later, the truck came to a stop.
I struggled to stand, reaching out blindly—and my fingers wrapped around something.
I picked it up.
A hammer.
I didn't know why, but my hands wouldn't let go of it.
I climbed down from the truck, staggering onto the road. My legs buckled, and I collapsed.
My vision blurred.
I crawled forward, dragging my aching body across the pavement.
Then, my other hand touched something. Something familiar. And in that moment, I heard it.
A whisper.
"Put me on..."
I grabbed it.
And with the last bit of strength left in my hand… I let it fall onto my face.
Darkness swallowed me whole."।
— Arthur closed the diary, his fingers lingering on the worn-out cover as he traced its faded edges. A deep silence filled the room. He exhaled slowly, then gripped his head with both hands, his posture tense, his mind drowning in the weight of what he had just read.
Arthur muttered under his breath, "I've never encountered Mr. Pain's diary in the seventeen years since I resigned from my old job."
𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗢𝗳 𝗔 𝗦𝘂𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗻...
A sudden knock echoed through the room, breaking Arthur's thoughts. Someone was at the door. He straightened up slightly and asked,
"Who's knocking?"
Arthur stood up and walked toward the door, his footsteps heavy with hesitation. "Wait for me—I'm coming," he said, his voice steady but cautious.
Arthur opened the door and found his brother standing there. His brows furrowed in concern. 'Wilson?.... What happened?..."
Wilson let out a sharp breath and said, "Come with me. The chief wants to meet you. He's at the 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. My driver will take us there—I request you to come along."
Arthur narrowed his eyes and asked,
"Did I do something to get myself arrested?"
Wilson shook his head. "No, he just needs your help with something. I'll explain the details on the way. Please, hurry."
Arthur trusted his brother's words, locked his house, and left with him without further hesitation.
Arthur noticed a cop car waiting outside on the road. Wilson opened the door for him and then got in beside him. Settling into his seat, Wilson glanced at the driver and ordered, "Rimouse, drive fast."
The driver gave a brief nod and responded, "Yes, sir," before starting the car and pulling onto the road.
Wilson turned to Arthur, his voice carrying an uneasy edge as if gripped by an unshakable fear. Breaking the tense silence in the car, he finally began to explain.
"When I went to work early this morning without telling you, I got a call from the Chief,"
Wilson began, his voice tense. "Our department found a very creepy dead body… a girl, around 17 years old, lying on the ground of that mansion. But it wasn't just the death that was disturbing—it was her face. She was smiling… but not willingly. Three nails forced that smile into place—two driven into the corners of her lips and one in the center of her lower lip, embedding deep into her jawbone, locking her mouth in a wide, grotesque grin… like a twisted joker's smile."
"There's more," Wilson continued, his voice growing heavier.
"The killer drove seven nails straight down the middle of her torso, from her ribcage to just above her genitals. The impact was so brutal that two or three of them lodged deep into her bones."
"Two more nails were driven straight into the center of her palms," Wilson said, his tone grim. "And the last one… was hammered right into the middle of her forehead."
"We're still waiting for the forensic report," Wilson added, his expression got dark. "But the chief believes this kind of murder could only be the work of a serial killer or a psychopath. That's why he called you."
Arthur's expression hardened as he processed Wilson's words. With a tense look, he exhaled a deep breath, his mind already racing through the implications.
After a little while,...
They arrived at 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.
The garden was sealed off with caution tape, and a board hung at the entrance with bold letters reading, "KEEP OUT."
But what caught Arthur's attention wasn't the restrictions—it was the white chalk outline on the ground, marking the exact position where the girl's body had lain.
As he instinctively stepped toward the crime scene, an officer suddenly grabbed his arm and snapped, "Hey! Keep out of this place! Civilians aren't allowed past the tape!"
Arthur blinked, momentarily snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh?" he mumbled.
Before he could say more, Wilson rushed over. "Hey! Leave him! He's the chief's guest," he said firmly.
The officer quickly stepped back and apologized, "Sorry, sir. Please excuse my actions."
At that moment, a voice cut through the tense air—calm yet authoritative.
"Arthur, right?"
The words, spoken in an aged but firm tone, instantly drew everyone's attention as the chief entered the garden.
Wilson and the officer immediately straightened up, saluting with respect. In unison, they said, "Good Evening, sir," their voices carrying the discipline of trained professionals.
The chief removed his hat and extended his right hand toward Arthur for a handshake. Arthur accepted the gesture, firmly shaking his hand in return.
The chief looked at Arthur and said, "What do you think about having a talk over a cup of tea?"
As he spoke, he casually pointed his thumb toward a café on the opposite side of the road, nestled Out of the Sebastian's Garden.
Arthur nodded in agreement.
The chief then turned to Wilson and the officer, giving a firm order, "You can take the rest of the day off. Call the guards and inform the others about my decision."
Wilson and the officer responded promptly, "Yes, sir!" before heading off to relay the orders.
The chief turned to Arthur with a slight nod and said, "Now, gentleman," gesturing toward the café with his hand. "Please."
Arthur responded, "Yes..." and without further delay, they walked together toward the café.
As they stepped inside, a sweet chime from the ringing bell echoed through the café.
They took their seats, and the chief let out a sharp whistle—a common signal in the cafés to call the waiter for giving order.
The waiter approached and asked, "May I take your order, sir?"
The Chief turned to Arthur and asked, "Would it be a problem if I order for you as well?"
Arthur, appreciating his gentlemanly manner, replied in a calm and respectful voice, "Yes, no problem."
The chief gave a slight smile and then turned to the waiter. "Two cappuccinos, please."
The waiter nodded in acknowledgment and left the table.
The Chief leaned forward slightly and began speaking. "Arthur, I hope your brother has informed you about what happened and why I asked you to come. I need your confirmation—do you think this murderer is a psychopath?"
Arthur's expression grew serious. "I can't say for certain," he replied.
The chief was momentarily shocked by his answer but smiled nonetheless. "So, I assume I was right—it's a revenge murder, then?"
Arthur shook his head. "I deny that too."
The chief raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Arthur leaned slightly forward. "Chief, I know you wouldn't spend five dollars on a mere psychiatrist just for confirmation."
The chief let out a gentle laugh. "My, my… nothing escapes your eyes. Arthur, I was truly amused when you left the private detective job."
The chief's amused smile widened as he leaned back slightly. "So, what do you think, Arthur? Why did I ask you to come?"
Arthur smirked. "I can answer that, Chief, but with a question of my own."
The chief raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would that be?"
Arthur suddenly spoke in a slightly louder tone, his gaze shifting to the woman sitting at the next table. "Sarla, how long do you plan on keeping that empty cup over your face?"
The woman hesitated for a moment before tilting her head slightly. "Huh? Sorry, maybe you're mistaking me for someone else."
Arthur chuckled. "Oh? But how did you know I was talking to you?" He leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharp with amusement. "I remember you were looking outside through the glass. Were you watching me through the glass's reflection?" He smirked. "If that's the case, then I think I just caught a girl wearing sunglasses... in the evening."
The woman opened her mouth as if to say something but stopped midway. Then, with a slight smirk, she sighed. "So, you caught me." Her tone shifted, carrying a hint of amusement. She slowly removed her sunglasses, revealing sharp, observant eyes. "Nice to meet you, Arthur. It's been a while."
The Chief leaned back in his chair, watching them with an amused expression, clearly enjoying the unexpected turn of events.
The Chief exhaled with a small laugh before speaking. "But it seems you failed to catch him."
Arthur chuckled. "Oh, you mean Phantom?"
Sarla's expression shifted to amusement as she turned to the Chief. "Wait… Phantom is here?"
The Chief smirked. "So, where is he, Arthur?"
Arthur casually turned to the waiter who had served them earlier. "Hello, Phantom. It's been a while."
The waiter paused, then smiled. Slowly, he reached up and pulled off his face—no, a mask. Beneath it was a young man with black hair, not much older than Arthur himself. He grinned. "So, Detective Jones' sharpness hasn't dulled yet?" His voice carried clear amusement.
Sarla's eyes glimmered with intrigue at Arthur's keen perception.
The Chief, still relaxed, leaned forward. "Well then, let's celebrate the reunion of ex-comrades—with a cup of Cappacino and the details of the case."
Everyone exchanged knowing smiles, agreeing without a word.
After a while,
Arthur leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "So, Chief," he began, "from what I observed about the body's position, I need to ask—was the girl clothed or naked when you found her?"
"No, she was dressed," the Chief replied, taking the last sip of his cappuccino.
Arthur nodded slightly, as if he had expected that answer. Then, looking back at the Chief, he asked, "Was there any sign of struggle? Bruises, defensive wounds, or anything that suggests she resisted?"
The Chief shook his head. "Surprisingly, no. There were no bruises, no defensive wounds—nothing that indicated she fought back."
Phantom suggested, "That means she was either unconscious or in some kind of semi-conscious state."
"Or maybe she was already dead," Arthur said, his words leaving everyone momentarily stunned.
Sarla blinked in surprise. "What?"
Arthur elaborated, "Maybe the strike to the forehead was the first wound, killing her instantly."
He then glanced at his watch and sighed. "Anyway, 9 P.M. is too late for me to head back home. Chief, I'll contact you later, okay?"
With that, he stood up, bid farewell to the Chief and the others, and walked out of the café.
The Chief chuckled. "A detective never really gets a holiday, does he, Sarla?"
Sarla laughed politely in agreement.
However, Phantom's expression darkened with a hint of unease.
"Chief, I'm heading back now too." Phantom said abruptly, his tone unusually tense. Without waiting for a response, he hurriedly left the café.
Chief turned to Sarla and asked, "Sarla, would you like me to drop you home?"
Sarla chuckled and replied, "Don't worry about me, Chief."
Chief exhaled and leaned back. "Alright, but the dogs on Hamer's Street aren't exactly friendly, you know!?"
A chill ran down Sarla's spine, and she asked,"Um, Chief… you can drop me home if you want."
Chief smirked and stood up. "I thought so. Come on, let's go," he said, tossing some cash on the table before leading the way out.
[𝘚𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘪𝘧𝘵]
Arthur was walking through the empty streets.
All of a sudden, he stopped.
He exclaimed, "Third pillar beside Beef's Street! Why are you following me, Phantom?"
Phantom revealed himself and said, "Yeah, I didn't mean to stalk you, but I had a question."
Arthur was shocked. "What is it?" he asked.
Phantom looked at him and asked, "How did you figure out I was the waiter?"
Arthur replied, "Oh, you forgot to remove the café's board that said, 'Sorry but We are closed for a week.' "
Phantom was shocked. "So you knew the Chief's act from the very start, since there were only two people left beside you?"
"Yeah," Arthur replied in a casual tone.
Phantom felt a surge of frustration. "Damn, I made that mistake," he muttered. Then, letting out a sigh, he said, "Anyway, good night, Arthur." With that, he turned and walked away.
[𝘚𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵]
Arthur returned home and found Wilson fast asleep. Quietly, he grabbed a blanket and placed it over him.
Then, without making a sound, he went to his room, locked the door, and knelt down beside his bed. Reaching underneath, he pulled out a box. As he opened it, a collection of items lay inside—a set of adoption papers, cut-out newspaper articles, a photo of him with Wilson, and another key.
He took the key and placed the box back where it was. Then, he pulled his bed aside, revealing a hidden locker with a keyhole. Without hesitation, he inserted the key into the hole and unlocked it.
Inside the locker there was a hammer—people called it a Rip Hammer. Faint red stains marked on its surface. Beside it, a set of nails was neatly arranged. He pulled everything out, but as his hands brushed against something else, he paused. It was a mask. A strange, unsure delight spread across his face.
He pulled it out, holding the mask in his hands. His fingers traced its edges, and the unsure delight in his eyes deepened.
Arthur whispered to himself, "I am studying your case, Mr. Pain... Did you kill that woman?" His grip on the mask tightened as a shadow of intrigue flickered across his face.
He put the mask on his face and burst into hysterical laughter, his voice echoing through the silent room like a sinister melody.
Wilson's woke up, and he groggily muttered, "Oh man, brother, stop watching comedy DVDs late at night and just go to sleep." And he lied on the bed again.
Arthur turned to the mirror, his tone shifting completely. He spoke to himself, "No, Arthur, my friend… I just gave that girl my greatest love. But like the other thirteen, she couldn't bear it."
Arthur tilted his head slightly, a sinister grin forming beneath the mask. "Will you mind if I go out tonight too?" he whispered to his reflection.
Arthur's real tone returned as he sighed, "No, I feel tired today. But if you say that, I'll try to save you—like I did in the other thirteen cases. Though, I think Phantom suspects you too... that's why he stalked me."
Mr. Pain's tone responded with a chilling amusement, "Do you want me to love him too, Arthur?"
Arthur's tone softened, answering, "No, no... he's the only friend I have besides you. I'll handle things. You should rest until I ask for your suggestion."
Arthur's expression darkened as Pain's tone seethed with anger, "Why do people care about scums like her? That young bitch wanted to kill her own father for money, so she and her husband could take it all!"
Pain's tone softened slightly, yet remained unsettling. "I just wanted to teach her a lesson with my love… I never intended for her to die," he murmured.
Pain's tone faded into a whisper. "Fine… but you know I can't stay silent forever."
Arthur's tone sighed. "I know. But at least until this case settles, you have to."
Pain's tone suggested, "You should buy another ink bottle. I can't write our diary without it."
Arthur's voice responded, "Okay, I'll bring it tomorrow. Until then, rest in this locker."
He took off the mask, and as he did, his left eye began to glow faintly.
"No, no... not again," he muttered, rushing to the sink. He splashed water on his face repeatedly until the glow finally faded.
He locked the locker with putting everything back inside, placed the key back in its spot, and then lay down on his bed.
He heard Mr. Pain's laughter echoing in his mind and then drifted into a deep sleep.
𝗧𝗼 𝗕𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘂𝗲𝗱.....