Alexander boarded the last bus of the night, pulling out his phone to check the news. As Carmen had said, there was no trace of the accident, as if it had been just a figment of his imagination. The bus ride took about half an hour before he arrived at the Anping community, where he had lived for decades.
Climbing the stairs to his apartment, Alexander retrieved his keys. As he opened the door, a sliver of light escaping from the inside made him cautious.
"A burglar?"
No one lived here besides him, especially not at this hour. Who could it possibly be?
Still on edge from his recent return from the Evil Spirit Space, Alexander stealthily pushed open the door, a short dagger silently slipping into his hand from his sleeve—his Sacrificial Blade.
He crept inside, moving quietly in the dimly lit 92-square-meter apartment, heading towards the light source.
"If it's two people, there'd be more noise. This 'burglar' is likely alone, though the unbroken lock is odd..."
His enhanced physical abilities gave Alexander confidence in subduing an intruder, especially if they were alone.
Silently, he slipped into his kitchen and found the "burglar's" true identity: a petite girl in a beige jumper dress.
"Xiaoru, what are you doing here?"
The girl, Xiaoru, jumped, startled by his voice. She was about eighteen or nineteen, her demeanor was like a small animal—psychologically younger than her appearance suggested.
—No wonder that person asked Alexander to take good care of her.
"Brother Feather, I'm sorry. I wanted to call you but couldn't get through..."
Whenever Xiaoru was near Alexander, her face would flush red, and her behavior would become erratic.
"It's fine. You're... making soup."
Alexander was puzzled, not expecting Xiaoru to be cooking. She had always seemed to lack basic life skills.
Xiaoru blushed deeper, her hands clasped behind her back and her toes slightly raising. "I just made a bit more, Brother Feather, you can have it as a late-night snack."
"Thank you, Xiaoru."
Alexander felt slightly embarrassed.
"You just moved nearby, and I haven't found time to look after you, yet you’re taking care of me. This won’t look good when I report to our senior..."
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"No need, no need, I know Brother Feather, you are busy with work, so it's okay..."
Flustered by his praise, Xiaoru's face reddened further, nearly biting her tongue as she spoke. She habitually crossed her arms nervously, revealing a bandaged hand that she quickly hid.
"I'll leave you to it then."
Seeing Alexander's lack of reaction to the bandage, she nervously bid farewell and hurried out.
"Wait, Xiaoru."
Alexander suddenly stopped her.
"Did you clean around the house?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, Brother Feather, I acted without asking."
"It's fine, but you didn't enter that locked room, did you?"
Alexander asked casually.
"No, it was locked, so I didn't go in."
"Okay, no worries. Do you need me to walk you home?"
The girl-next-door demeanor on Xiaoru's face turned even redder. If there were sound effects, it would be like a steam engine.
"No, no, I can go by myself."
She scampered out, footsteps light and quick down the stairwell.
Alexander chuckled wryly, closing the gas and setting the soup on the table.
However, his expression soon darkened.
"Didn't enter, huh?"
He moved past the dining area to a small, inconspicuous room. Using a special key, he unlocked the black door.
This room was one of his secrets.
Alexander entered, locking the door behind him, switching on the light.
The dim old-fashioned chandelier cast uneven light across the room. All the wallpaper had been stripped, and the walls were covered with various photos.
Most were gruesome crime scene photos—backgrounds, murder weapons, and victims' bodies.
There were also black-and-white photographs, and yellowed newspaper clippings pinned to the walls.
To the right was a large blackboard with a map, pinned with colored thumbtacks, each marking a crime scene with accompanying photos.
On the opposite side was a bookshelf stuffed with files, containing reports on various cases—some belonged to Alexander's foster father, the rest accumulated over the years.
The sources were varied: some collected through conventional means, others from hacking police databases, and a few from illicit methods.
A table overflowed with dossiers. As he opened his laptop and flipped through a thick file, book-marked in several places, he reviewed the contents as he did nightly before exhaustion took over, and he fell asleep at his desk.
The next morning, he was awakened by his phone's alarm.
"Damn, it's Sunday..."
He regretted setting the alarm, wishing he could sleep in.
Fatigue from the script world had drained him, especially in that Cthulhu-like environment, where even resting felt like torment. Back in the real world, he yearned to relax and relieve his strained nerves.
Since he was awake, Alexander decided not to go back to sleep. He picked up his phone and called his best friend, Ran Xiuheng.
The line quickly connected, and a lazy, magnetic male voice came through.
"Who’s the idiot calling me this early..."
"It's me."
Alexander saw no need to introduce himself; they were close enough to recognize each other's voices instantly.
"Oh, it's Han Shao. What's up?"
The voice sounded freshly awake, accompanied by feminine murmurs—a sign his friend had been indulging in nightlife.
"You jerk, you gave my keys to Xiaoru, didn’t you?"
"How was your night life yesterday?"
"Shut up."
"You mean you didn't make a move? Are you even a man?"
"My masculinity doesn't need to be proven through breeding activities. A DNA test can confirm it, so save your concern, you stud."
"A gentleman like me, called a stud pig? The city's fair maidens would weep."
"Eat, sleep, repeat, and piston motions in between. What else would you call it?"
"At least a stallion, not a pig!"
"You do realize pigs are smarter than horses, right?"
Their banter continued in this vein, a typical exchange between them.
"If you have time, I’d like to meet. I’ve got something to discuss."
"Sure," Xiuheng agreed without hesitation.