The cart rustled across the gravel-covered road. A person in a tan trench coat, black vest, and a perfectly unfurrowed, white shirt underneath, held their arms over the carriage guards.

“Man, this is nice.”

The breeze of fresh woodland air. The beautiful trees that reached five times that of those in any city. The serene flowers and greenery sprawled all across the floor. The smell of all of that melded together into one.

The carriage’s constant jostling was far from a comfortable experience for the passengers. But what it lacked in comfort, it more than made up for in information and sightseeing.

The person sat there in silence. Eyes closed. Ears out and listening. Nose on full blast. With one bump of the carriage wheels, all that went away. The person turned to the coachman up front.

“Watch for the bumps! I’m trying to relax here!”

Although no words were shared, the person could hear the coachman mumbling to himself. The person’s lips rose upward.

…

A sudden change. The rough gravel road had become a bit smoother, and the trees were more scarce. Along with that, large patches of bare dirt seemed to situate themselves in orderly positions.

The person could smell a strange air since entering the deserted plain.

“What happened here?”

Silence was the only thing that followed the person’s question.

“I said, ‘What happened here?’”

Another round of murmurs came from the coach before a rough voice upfront sounded.

“About a month ago, there was an entire village here. It all suddenly disappeared one day. All the people, buildings, everything. It was all gone.”

“Interesting.”

The person crossed their legs and began tapping their right hand on their top knee in a rhythmic pattern.

“Anything else to share?”

Silence once again commandeered the carriage. As the person began to speak up again, the coachman spoke once more.

“I don’t do free information, pal.”

“I have extra.”

The person could feel the contemplation of the coachman.

“I’ll pay double what I owe for the ride.”

And in an instant

“Deal!”

The coachman seemed to sit in silence for a moment due to his own rapid response.

“Apparently, someone saw a young boy running away from the village. They would have chased after the kid, but they had yet to know of the village’s fate. When they finally learned of the damages, the boy was long gone.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The tapping on the knee continued.

“Thanks. That was some good information.”

…

The clattering finally stopped. They had arrived at Kefa, the capital city. The person stood from the crude, wooden seat and walked out the carriage, completely ignoring the large drop between the carriage and the floor.

The smell of coal burning. The stench of people in their sweaty, unclean outfits. It disgusted the person.

The person flicked a coin back to the coachman as they rode away in search of more business. A breath came and was released in a matter of seconds. The person remained silent before reaching into their left pocket.

Where did I put it?

“...ah. There it is.”

The person pulled out a small notepad hanging off a string and hook. They grabbed at the small notepad and released the string to let it hang in perpetual motion. Flipping through the notebook, the person came upon the page they were looking for.

Detective Sefit Thropos, huh? How the hell do they come up with these stupid names? Well guess this is my name for the time being.

They put away the notepad back into the pocket. The person, now Sefit Thropos, stretched to the stars that had yet to fill the sky. After the adequate stretching was met, Sefit began to walk into a dirty alleyway off the side of the road.

Left.

Sefit turned to his left.

Right.

Sefit turned to his right. His cheeks lifted upward and out alongside his lips.

Behind.

Sefit slowly turned their head as if they had calculated such a scenario long before. A man in rough clothes, and blood dripping from his fingers and mouth, appeared without a sound. The man began to move but the fast detective pushed his hand forward. His smile had disappeared.

“Hold on, would you?”

Sefit slowly reached down into his left breast pocket. Inside was a pocket watch. After confirming that what he had grasped was the correct item, Sefit pushed the button on top to release the mechanism holding the metal cover in place.

Confirming the time, he closed and placed the watch back into the pocket.

“The police office closes in ten minutes.”

Sefit sighed before continuing.

“Sorry, but can I ask your name?”

The man looked visibly confused by the detective’s unbothered attitude. The man felt some anger boil up within him.

“Why do you care what my name is? Wanna know the name of your killer?”

Sefit’s smile returned as his words released without a hint of remorse.

“Even vampires deserve graves.”

The man, shaken up by Sefit’s comment, attempted to retreat backward, but he was too slow. The detective was too fast. The detective grabbed at the gun held in the holster hidden under their trench coat. Within a second of the gun being drawn, it was fired into the dark abyss.

The bullet ran through the invisible air and hit its intended target. The bullet pierced straight through the man’s forehead, leaving a great gash in a place one shouldn’t. The man stood with lost balance. He was unsteady and faint from the wound, but still active.

Is that what you think?

Sefit slowly walked toward the man. The man thought he was still moving, but all he did was stand there. The detective, whose hands were in his pockets, was now but a short distance away from the man.

The man still did not know he had yet to move. Sefit slowly pulled out his left hand and put it into an unclenched fist, leaving the thumb on his middle finger. Then, he released. With a flick of his finger, the man turned into ash. Sefit grabbed out a glass tube from his left pocket and began to scoop in some of the ash.

“Why do vampires have to be the hardest to report? Annoying bastards and bitches they are.”

Once finished with the collection of proof. The ash got carried away by the alleyway draft.

Sefit walked out from the alleyway with only a minor amount of dust on his clothes.

“So, uh, where is the nearest station?”

Sefit turned to his left.

Busy streets, people working away, and many food stands.

He then turned to his right.

Large buildings, Large banks, and a giant castle at the end of it all.

No station in sight.

“Shit.”