While chaos was going on in the cellar from hell, things weren’t as smooth in the cottage of heaven.

“This is the lord’s house and it shall stay pure and just! Right husband?”

“Y-yes. What the wife said.”

“....” Detective had spent a good hour questioning the Uncle and Aunt and it was clear from their exchange who truly wore the pants in this household. Every now and then, the detective had to be crafty enough to ‘politely’ interrupt the Aunts impromptu sermon – or else this questioning will carry onto the next holy Sunday. “Just like that? You let a young girl walk out of your house. Alone, with no money?”

“Feh,” The Aunt snorted as she sat in her throne – sorry, her ancient couch. “I wouldn’t say penniless, detective. That girl, always shuts herself in her room, playing with these ‘streams’, and walking out with enough confident to buy a new bag that’s hot on the mall shelves. I half suspect, she has been selling her body online, just so she can get an easy going life. The nerve of her. The body is the Lord’s temple, it is sacred by all accounts. I questioned her on it, many times—”

Detective Fraulein frowned, “There’s more than one way to earn money through the internet, and it need not be OnlyFans, ma’am.”

“What do I know? I am just an ‘out of date’ hag – as that little witch calls me. Hmph!”

“And you? The Uncle. What have you to say about this?”

“Er, uh. Well, detective, you see...uh,” The Uncle felt cramped even when the couch could fit a good three people. He constantly shifted here and there as if trying to find a spot in the cushions to stop having those old springs poking at his bad back. “Our Niece always caused a storm with her Aunt, arguing every day. I-I stay away from it. N-not like anything I can do. I-I don’t understand how my Niece thinks.”

Detective Fraulein then asked both directly, “Did either of you ever contact the victim’s mother – your sister, I might add Miss Aunt. Or rather, did the mother ever called you to check up on her during the time the Drain Victim was missing?”

The Aunt rolled her eyes, “I may be old fashion, but I’m not senile. Everyone has a phone. Everyone knows how to use an email. There’s no need to call us directly.

The Uncle scratched at his forehead, “Y-yeah. What she said.”

“Are you sure about that?” The detective then pulled out a sheet of paper and placed it on the coffee table that looks like it was made from a twisted tree stump. She gave it a good push to make sure the owners of the cottage got a good look. “This is from your phone company. There’s been at least 100 calls coming to your house, international line – exact same number. I doubt you can bear all that constant ringing day in and day out. Don’t tell me you both lost your hearing.”

Before either the Aunt or Uncle could say a word – the phone next to them rung. The Uncle instinctively reached over, only for the Aunt to instinctively slap his hand away as if ‘keep the hands off the merchandise!’. She realized, it was a terrible decision – but her composure said otherwise.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

The beating of the phone chimes continued to haunt the cottage. Over and over again...When the phone gave up, the owners let out an exhale of reli—Oh there it goes again!

“That should be enough, Officer Tanner.” Detective Fraulein waved a hand. One of her officers then tapped his phone off, muting the home phone entirely. The detective took a glance at the old phone, specifically— “Hmm. You must have paid a pretty penny for that premium phone package. I can see the Caller ID services hasn’t failed you. It even tells you my officer’s full name. My guess, easier to know when to pick up the phone and when to turn a blind eye...or deaf ear.”

The Aunt and Uncle had various emotions flutter across their face. Was it shame, disgust, anger, fear? The feelings looked so complicated, it might have given an FBI Criminal Analyst a run for his money.

“The hell is wrong with you both!” Detective Fraulein slapped the table to spook her enemy. “This girl is barely in her mid 20s, studying in a brand new country for the first time, and relying on her only family here. Now look what happened to her - dead and buried in a ditch! How can you act like this was a matter of spilled milk on the carpet!”

The Aunt retorted, “I am a Good Samaritan. I sacrifice my time to watch over my sister’s child. But the little witch treated me like some evil step mother! She spits on my generosity and drives me up the wall! Good will or not, there was only so much I could handle! She’s not my little girl – isn’t that right husband!?

“E-er. Yeah. Yes. Exactly! Wh-what the wife said.”

“Honestly, you two! I should—” Detective Fraulein was only an inch away from grabbing anything close to a phone book to slap them both – metaphorically – when an officer came rushing in. A quick whisper into her ear – and she bolted out. “Someone watch these two clowns!”

Detective Fraulein dashed out of the cottage, shoving through a crowd in the backyard, and was about to dive down into hell.

“Kung f—Kim! Stone! Did you call for an ambulance!?”

“No need, Miss Detective.”

Martial Kim rose from the dead. Rather, he stumbled out of the cellar stairs – bearing this ugly gash across his one cheek. Half of his face, down his neck, and drenching his suit, was covered in fresh blood. It looked like his throat got slashed by a butter knife, yet he had this casual frown on his face.

“You,” Martial Kim wiped some blood that dripped into his lips. “You need to take a look.”

Detective Fraulein clutched her heart to brace herself from that bolt of shock, before peering down the cellar stairs. “...Oh god, Stone is that Kim’s blood?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Professor Stone was at the very bottom of the cellar stairs. His one hand was waving the U.V. light across the last three steps on the way down.

A faint glow ghostly glow blinked under the light – a splash of blue nebula.

“This blood is older, caked into the wood.” Prof. Stone spoke up, “There’s also sign of smearing. Most likely attempts to be wiped away with a rag and bleach.”

“Jesus,” Detective Fraulein dove into hell. She wanted to get a better look herself, “Was the girl dismembered in the cellar?”

“We don’t know, whoever did it cleaned the concrete floor thoroughly. However we’re lucky. No amount of bleach can remove blood stuck on porous material. In this case, wooden steps. And if I am not mistaken, the blood stain isn’t from arterial blood spurt, it seemed to have pooled out. Maybe slowly.”

Before Detective Fraulein could ask a question, Martial Kim came in behind her to deliver the answer, a solemn look in his eyes.

“One of the steps were loose,” The young master explained. “No railings to grab on and no chance to recover from the tumble. I was lucky, my head avoided single a nail that was hidden in the wood... The Drain Victim however...”

Detective Fraulein clutched her skull out of instinct, “Stone. I thought you said her head was bashed in and her neck snapped in two!”

Prof. Stone nodded, but, “The coroner could not determine the true cause of death... However, this discovery would suggest – the Drain Victim for some reason fell down the stairs and hit her head, maybe on this very nail. In an angle that would not have been obvious for the coroner.”

“W-wait, wait, wait.” Detective Fraulein pinched her nose bridge to get her mind together, “Assuming she died here – how did she get in the first place? Based on what I found out about her, she would rather spend her days in the mall with friends than help out with chores or carpentry work.”

Martial Kim’s slash on his cheek started to ripple, like a dog baring his hackles, “Why don’t you ask her Uncle and Aunt? The cellar had been chained and locked up since we arrived.”

Everything started to click, in both the police and forensic investigators mind. Without further ado, the detective dragged the cottage owners out. Someone was going to answer for this and answer good!

“Wh-what the devil is that glowing down there!” The Aunt hissed.

“Er. Uh. Ah.” The Uncle kept rubbing a hand across the top of his head. “W-we don’t know anything about this! S-s-someone must have broken in and--”

--- Shameful. Absolutely shameful! Do you really think, you can walk away from justice with just a few excuses!?

Just as the Knight-Errant was about to deal with this injustice personally—Prof. Stone took over.

“Your feet betrayed you,” said the forensic chemist.

--- What was that? Feet can betray their owner? Wh-what does Teacher mean?

Prof. Stone marched up to the Aunt and Uncle. “No matter whether or not you are a professional con-man, or really good a poker, the moment you feel cornered – your body’s instinct is to angle your feel in the best angle of escape. See, your feet are already facing away from me and towards the gate fence. Exactly how a rabbit would point their feet away from a Lion right in front of it.”

--- This...is this what Teacher mentioned? Micro-expression? The same technique used by these special investigators, the F.B.I. he calls them?

Despite his dripping wound, Martial Kim was more in silent awe in how his teacher handled the situation. It was clear there was spite in the forensic chemist tone, even his eyes were that of a viper, but never once did he lash out like a prideful tiger or showing off like some kind of feral animal.

Or a storm billowing, in preparations for great rain and lightning to follow.

“Furthermore,” Prof. Stone scoffed as he pulled up an evidence bag he just used. “I found this lock of hair. Thanks to whichever one of you did the cleaning, you swept it right under the steps; protected in the shadows. All I have to do is do a simple D.N.A. check, and confirm the Drain Victim – your niece – had once been trapped and wounded in the cellar. No amount of lies you make can save you – for evidence does not lie.”

“I-It was an accident!” The Uncle blurted out, “I-I told my wife d-don’t hit her! Don’t hit her! Sh-she wouldn’t listen!”

“N-No officers, wait!” The Aunt screeched and punched her other half with a bony fist, “That little witch was trying to have an affair with my husband! Kept seducing him, tempting him! Dragged him down the cellars so they can disgrace our wedding vows! I-I was protecting my husband from that she-devil!”

Detective Fraulein rolled her eyes in disgust, “Oh come on! Both of you together are well over 100 years old! A 20 something young girl would have the hots for spineless creep like your husband!? Hah! I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who dragged the Drain Victim down there to feel like a real man! No thanks to a miser like you!”

Martial Kim watched as Lies and Truth blurred into an ugly grey.

The more he watched the argument, his fist would clench and his teeth would grind...but he endured. Why? Because he kept reminding himself: this was Not his world. Not his rules. Not his way. Most importantly, he promised his mentor to behave himself...still, man, this feeling was insufferable.

The moment Detective Fraulein dragged the relatives away, to get a proper story back in the station, did Martial Kim realized he had been holding his breath the whole time.

“It’s okay Kim.” Prof. Stone patted his protege in the back, “You can let go of your fists now, or else your blood pressure will kill you.”

“...Teacher.” Martial Kim wanted to nod, but he lost the energy to do so, “Are you going to tell me, this is where our job ends, right? That there is nothing more to be done for the Drain Victim?”

“Actually, there is something we can do.”

“Wh-what is it, Teacher. I-I am willing to help!”

Prof. Stone smirked, trying not to show how proud he was – or else his protege will get cocky. Hah. “What’s your typing speed?”

“...T-Teacher?”

“We got to right up that report for the case right? How else can Detective Fraulein put the charges on the right people. Come on, I’ll give you a crash course with Mavis Beacon.”

“...Thank you Teacher. I feel better.”

“Hahaha. Kim. If there is one thing I believe in: people lie, evidence does not. Always remember that and trust in the clues you find.”

...........

So. What do you think?

Who was right? Who was wrong? What was the real story?

Take a moment and stand in the shoes of a detective. What do you believe truly happened in that cellar?

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