Sitting in front of me was Mire Opra, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Her eyes were red from crying, her lips cracked from the cold weather. It was clear she hadn’t slept the night before—understandably so. She was nearly my age, and I could empathize with the pain of losing someone so dear. Still, like many things in life, time could heal even the deepest wounds.

She wiped her nose with a tissue and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as her hands covered her face. Tears dripped onto the surface in front of her. Jane sat next to me, legs crossed, her gaze steady but compassionate. Meanwhile, James and Leo were doing outside work, talking to the neighbors, trying to gather information about the night of the murder.

“Can you tell us what happened now?” Jane asked gently. “Take your time, no rush.”

Mire sniffled, drawing in a shaky breath. “W-where should I start, ma’am?”

“You can call me Jane,” she replied. “May I call you Mire?”

“Y-yes.”

The room we were in was plain and functional: white walls, a brown table in the center, and an air conditioner on the wall blowing warm air. Beside the table was a small coffee stand, on top of which sat a plant with pink leaves. Like many things in West Antapolis, it wasn’t natural, but it added a charm to the otherwise dull room.

“Alright, Mire,” Jane said kindly. “Let’s start with yesterday morning. What happened after you woke up? Tell us everything you can, in as much detail as possible.”

“We… we woke up early,” Mire began, her voice trembling. “We ate breakfast around ten. Then—he used his laptop. He was translating… uh, videos for a couple’s page.”

“Porn videos?” Jane clarified. “You can be open about it. It’s fine.”

“Yes…” Mire’s voice dropped, and she shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. It’s just… that kind of thing never sat right with me.”

“Where can we find this couple?” Jane asked.

“They’re in Russia,” Mire replied. “They’re not here.”

“Got it.” Jane nodded. “Please, continue.”

“Uh, right… We stayed home all day. We didn’t go out. Everything seemed normal.”

“When did your boyfriend leave the house?” I asked.

“I can’t remember exactly,” Mire said, her brow furrowing. “It was nighttime, though. Maybe around eight? I thought he’d gone to see his brother.”

“You lived together for how long?” I asked.

“We were living separately before, but he got kicked out of his place because he couldn’t pay rent. He’d been staying with me for the past few weeks. I tried to keep it hidden from the neighbors. They’re the gossipy type. I didn’t want my mom finding out…”

“Your mom didn’t approve of him?” Jane asked.

“Because of the age difference, yeah,” Mire admitted. “That’s why I moved us to the other house—it was my grandmother’s. Not many people know me there. Once we settled in, I tried to keep a low profile.”

“So you were living with your mother before this?” Jane asked. “I understood correctly, right?”

“Yes.” Mire nodded. “But when I found out about Jacob’s situation, I lied to my mom. I told her that a close girlfriend of mine had been kicked out of her house and that I wanted to help her by moving into the other property with her. She agreed.”

“You said Jacob’s landlord kicked him out,” Jane pressed. “Where can we find this landlord?”

“He’s in Tidbit,” Mire answered. “His name is Kilo Pud. Lives in the red caravan with no windows.”

“Got it,” I said, standing up. “I’ll head over there and see what I can find.”

“Okay, C,” Jane said, giving me a quick look. “Be careful.”

As their conversation continued, I stood up and left the interrogation room, stepping into the second-floor corridor. I made my way toward the elevator, which was just about to close. I slipped inside and leaned against the wall, catching a glimpse of my dull, lifeless reflection in the mirrored interior. With a sigh, I turned my back to it.

The elevator chimed, and the doors opened to reveal the ground floor. The shift in atmosphere was immediately noticeable. The polished, metallic walls gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting, which adjusted its brightness to match the time of day. In the center of the area, the reception desk stood, where an officer welcomed guests. Around it, plush chairs and sofas were neatly arranged for those waiting. Holographic screens hovered above, displaying the latest news in silence, while the vending machines in the corner hummed softly, offering snacks and beverages.

“C!” Leo called out, striding into the building. “We need to talk.”

“What happened?” I asked, meeting him halfway.

“Something feels off,” he said, his expression serious. “I talked to the neighbors. They claim they’ve never seen Mire before.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Mire was living with her mother before this. Then she moved to another house with Jacob after learning about his situation. She kept a low profile, though.”

“Why move to another house?”

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“Her mom didn’t like Jacob because of their age difference,” I explained.

“Okay,” Leo said, nodding. “Makes sense. I’ll talk to the mom, just to cover all bases.”

“You think her mom’s involved?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Leo replied. “But it doesn’t hurt to check.”

“Fair enough.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Tidbit,” I said. “Jacob’s landlord might have some useful information. I need to see him.”

“Alright,” Leo said with a small nod. “Good luck.”

“Yeah. You too.”

“C!” a voice boomed as the elevator doors opened again. Helion.

Helion’s uniform was impeccably pressed, and his blond hair moved slightly in the breeze as he approached. At twenty-four, he was the youngest and most popular District Captain in the city. His good looks and charisma ensured the media always turned out in droves for his press conferences.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

“C,” Helion said, walking toward me. “I heard you couldn’t convince Robert to change his mind.”

“He was persistent, Captain,” I said. “We tried.”

“Damn,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Now we’ll have to wait for a case to be opened to authorize the autopsy. Since this is part of a serial killing, it’ll probably take two days at most. But in those two days, that maniac could strike again. We don’t have time for this.”

“I know,” I said. “But we’ll catch the culprit, Cap.”

“We better, C.” His tone was heavy, frustration barely concealed. “We better.”

Helion took a deep breath, his sharp gaze lingering on Leo and me before he turned and walked outside. Once he was gone, Leo and I exchanged a glance.

“Could’ve been worse,” Leo said.

“Yeah,” I replied with a dry chuckle. “Story of my life: could’ve been worse… fuck me.”

Shaking my head, I stepped out of the building and inhaled the cold, sharp air. From where I stood, the city sprawled below, drenched in neon lights and glistening rain. Headlights cut through the drizzle, and distant thunder rumbled behind thick clouds, threatening a heavier downpour. The sun was hidden, leaving the time of day ambiguous—this city’s weather was as unpredictable as its people.

Descending the stairs, I turned left toward the parking lot and fished my keys out of my pocket. I had to head to Tidbit to speak with Jacob’s landlord, then make it back to the station to discuss Jane’s follow-up interrogations. A long day awaited me.

“Need to eat something,” I muttered.

I stopped by a nearby vending machine, fed it twenty bucks, and selected my choices. After a short wait, the compartment below slid open, and I crouched to retrieve a cup, a can of beer, and a pair of chopsticks.

Noodles and beer—the quintessential West Antapolis combo. I stirred the noodles with my chopsticks, steam curling upward in soft tendrils.

“So tired,” I muttered, unlocking my car and sliding in. “Ugh.”

I hit the start button, took a few bites of noodles, and washed them down with beer. Feeling the chill in the air, I cranked up the heater, letting the warmth thaw me as the steam from the noodles danced under the vent’s gentle breeze.

After a faint sigh, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, I shifted into reverse and pulled out of the lot.

“Wonder what they’re talking about right now,” I said, flipping on the radio.

The familiar static of West Radiopolis crackled through the speakers. It was the only station anyone cared to listen to in this city, though it operated illegally from an elusive spoofed location. They weren’t shy about airing the gritty truths people were too afraid to discuss—and they had a particular knack for calling out the Preternatural Affairs Department.

“The city of lost souls and losers,” the host began. “I’m your host, Ali, and today I’ve got my friend here, Kara.”

“Of course, that’s not our real names, pigs,” Kara chimed in sharply, clearly addressing law enforcement. “So don’t go knocking on the wrong doors, okay? Or should I talk in the only language you understand? Oink, oink, oink, you fascist pigs.”

“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?” Ali teased.

“Or someone—or someones—are still sleeping, Ali,” she snapped. “Because the pigs at Preternatural Affairs are snoozing while murders happen everywhere! People are being hanged by their arms and legs.”

I stopped at a red light, taking the opportunity to sip my beer and slurp another mouthful of noodles. The combo was as satisfying as ever, though I knew my arteries probably hated me for it. If my mom saw me having beer and noodles for breakfast, she’d have a fit.

“That is... strange,” Ali agreed. “This killer just keeps offing people. And the cops? Just watching it happen.”

“And we’re paying them,” Kara added bitterly. “Now, I’m not saying every pig is a bad pig. Some are decent. But these guys at Kiruha Station? Lazy as hell. And no one’s doing anything.”

“We just stopped a wraith attack at the mall,” I muttered defensively with a dull voice. “James nearly lost his damn head.”

Wraiths were less dangerous than vampires—a failed transformation of sorts—but still far more lethal than humans. A real menace, regardless.

The light turned green, and I eased the car forward.

“I’ll disagree with you there, Kara,” Ali countered. “Thanks to Helion, we can walk the streets safely. He’s been handling vampire problems efficiently.”

“Helion?” Kara scoffed. “That idiot who thinks vampires, wraiths, and humans can live together in peace? We eat cows, sheep, fish. Those two eat humans.”

“Technically, they only drink our blood.”

“Oh, right—while slicing you into pieces. Sure, just blood,” she retorted, dripping with sarcasm.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Balancing the beer can between my legs, I pulled it out. Leo was calling.

“Hey,” I said, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Uh, C,” he began, sounding unusually hesitant. “It’s about Jacob.”

“What about him?”

“Can we meet? How soon can you get back to the station?”

“Two or three hours,” I replied. “I need to talk to Jacob’s landlord first.”

“Good,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t be late. It’s about the key.”

"Don't create unnecessary suspense, Leo," I said. "Just tell me what you found."

"We found a locked box that the key opened. It was in his car, hidden in the trunk," he replied. "The key also had a sample of that Miri plant. You know, the red-leafed one?"

"Hmm," I muttered, taking a sip of my beer. "Have you opened the box yet?"

"Nope," he said. "We're worried it might be rigged to explode again, like that laptop. So we're taking precautions."

"Alright," I said. "Talk to you soon. Let me know when you guys open it."

—