Crime Scene – 3:00 a.m.

“Man, don’t they need sleep too?” Sirius groaned, resting his head against Lihar, who was already fast asleep—completely unconscious to the world.

Kyrokuto was driving, his eyes aching from dryness as the dim streetlights flickered past. Their car pulled into the parking lot of the museum. From afar, it looked less like a museum and more like a forgotten fortress—its brown walls tangled with creeping vines and dry leaves clinging to the stone. The outside felt worn, almost alive in its decay.

“DT Kyrokuto, Fitta Police Station,” Kyrokuto said, flashing his badge to the officer at the entrance.

They followed the officer deeper inside, footsteps echoing against the patterned floor.

“Where’s the victim?” Sirius asked quietly.

The officer pointed upward.

Hanging above them, at the center of the grand entrance, was a massive chandelier—the heart of the room, scattering fragments of light across the marble walls. But tonight, it held more than crystal and glass.

The body hung impaled on the chandelier’s spine. The central beam had pierced straight through the victim’s back, jutting out from the stomach, and two smaller rods pinned the arms in place. Blood still dripped slowly down the crystals, turning the light into streaks of red. The victim’s head was tilted slightly back, as if caught mid-dream—drifting on a calm, endless sea.

“What did I miss… whoa.”

Lihar stepped through the doorway, wiping his granny glasses with the edge of his shirt, eyes widening at the sight above.

“Should we get it down?” Zoro asked, snapping a few pictures of the scene.

“That would be our instinctive reaction… but no, not for now,” Sirius replied, his gaze steady on the chandelier.

Kyrokuto exhaled quietly and turned toward the workers. “Bring a ladder,” he ordered.

“Who’s going up?” Zoro asked, lowering his camera.

“Sirius,” Kyrokuto said, pausing just long enough for effect, “and his father-in-law.”

Sirius froze mid-step.

“My what now?” he asked, shooting Kyrokuto a sharp look.

“Not a chance,” Raz responded while unpacking his forensic kit. “My precious little daughter is still far too young for this frog.”

Kyrokuto didn’t bother replying. He was already adjusting his gloves, pretending not to notice the glare.

Zoro snorted. “Guess family bonding takes many forms.”

“Shut it,” Sirius muttered, grabbing the edge of the ladder as the workers steadied it. The chandelier swayed faintly above, crystals chiming like distant windbells.

Sirius climbed up first.

Zoro stood below, notebook ready, his pen hovering as he waited for Sirius’s observations.

Sirius scanned the victim from head to toe, his gaze sharp and steady, noting every detail before speaking.

“It’s… amazingly specific,” he said after a moment. “There are no signs of restraint. And if there had been any struggle while he was being placed up here, the glass and lights would’ve shattered.”

He leaned a little closer, his voice lower now.

“No other wounds either. Just blood from the mouth… and that’s it.”

Down below, the forensic team had started their sweep. One of them dusted the railing and chandelier base with magnetic fingerprint powder, using a wand to lift any clear prints. Another set up an alternate light source—a handheld lamp that shifted between blue and ultraviolet—to search for trace fluids or skin residue.

A faint outline began to appear near the edge of the chandelier’s frame.

Kyrokuto’s eyes narrowed. “Careful with that area,” he said quietly. “If that’s a partial print, it could be from whoever put him up there.”

The faint prints near the chandelier’s frame turned out to be partial and overlapping.

“Looks like we’ve got several sets,” one of the forensic techs murmured.

Kyrokuto frowned. “Maintenance staff?”

“Most likely,” Sirius replied, glancing down. “This thing doesn’t stay spotless by itself. Whoever did this wore gloves—no fresh oils, no friction ridges, nothing identifiable.”

Zoro scribbled something in his notes. “So all we’ve got are fingerprints from the janitors?”

Sirius nodded slightly. “Yeah. The chandelier was touched—but not by our killer.”

“I spoke with the staff,” Lihar called out from below, adjusting his glasses. “The museum’s maintenance shift starts at five and ends around ten for the ones who lock up. No fraudulent personnel either!”

Kyrokuto added, “Then whoever did this… wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Not quite,” Sirius said, disagreeing softly.

He raised his hands, framing the scene between his fingers like a painter examining a canvas. His eyes narrowed, studying the symmetry, the lighting, the grotesque balance of it all.

“It’s not just a murder,” he murmured. “It’s a piece of art.”

Sirius tilted his head, watching the light catch on the red-tinted glass.

“It’s mockery,” he murmured. “He hung him there to make a point.”

Kyrokuto blinked, clearly oblivious to the metaphorical meaning behind Sirius’s words.

“In simple words,” Sirius said, lowering his hands, “we’re after an artist.”

“Not just any,” Lihar added, closing the file of the museum employee that had just been handed to him, “but one capable of actually using a brain.”

“Raz will take care of it. We’re heading to our next stop,” Lihar said.

DT Raz nodded, still deep in thought, trying to figure out how to lower the piece of art without damaging either the body or the chandelier.

University of Fitta — 7:00 a.m.

“This brings back memories,” Sirius said, glancing at Lihar as they walked down the long hallway.

“It sure does,” Lihar replied with a grin. “Back then when you couldn’t walk five steps without falling.”

Sirius groaned. “It was embarrassing enough that I had to thank the person who helped me afterward.”

Zoro looked around, amused. “You two studied here?”

“Yeah,” Lihar said proudly. “Before Sirius learned basic balance.”

“Hey—” Sirius started, glaring.

Zoro chuckled. “I didn’t go here. Graduated abroad last year.”

“I know! Ankara University — fifteenth position in your final exams!” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows with a smug grin.

“What a stalker,” Lihar muttered, shaking his head, while Zoro just stared, wide-eyed at Sirius’s unnerving precision.

They arrived at the Arts Department.

Lecturer Gong extended his hand, and Lihar shook it firmly.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Lihar said.

“I’ve prepared a list of our students — one hundred new ones with potential,” Gong replied proudly.

“I want the ones without,” Sirius added flatly.

There was a short pause before Gong chuckled awkwardly and led them to his office. There, the staff compiled the necessary details and forwarded them to the police station.

They entered the classroom. The smell of paint and clay filled the air. Students froze for a moment, then slowly returned to their work.

Sirius’s eyes caught a painting on the far wall — a bloody waterfall with the faint shadow of a swan, its neck tilted, almost broken. He leaned closer.

“That one… too deliberate to be coincidence.”

Lihar stopped by another piece. It showed a broken museum window, blood draining from the shattered glass, though there was no body or source in sight.

“This one’s darker,” Lihar muttered. “Blood without a reason — chaos without control.”

Zoro looked between them, scribbling notes.

“So one mirrors the crime, and the other mirrors the mind?”

Sirius nodded. “Exactly. We watch — not accuse.”

“Nick and Finzi… quite hardworking,” Gong said, giving them the details.

“Maybe the ‘quiet’ wasn’t satisfying for them,” Lihar muttered.

As they stepped out into the corridor, Kyrokuto called out to them.

“The victim—got the info,” he said, checking his notes. “Male, thirty-five. Lived alone, no family. Worked at the museum. No criminal record, no strange transactions. Nothing suspicious at all.”

“All I can say,” he added, his voice low, almost to himself, “is that pain hangs above waters that one cannot imagine.”

Sirius’s smile faded as he walked away.

“What pain?” Zoro asked quietly.

“The pain of losing Carlos and not being able to tell his son about it,” Sirius replied.

One Day Later — Police Station

“Finz and the other guy,” Zoro said, sitting down with his coffee. “They’ve been abroad for two weeks on an exchange program. Confirmed and checked.”

Lihar shook his head, frustrated. “Nothing matches up.”

The door burst open. Kyrokuto came rushing in, breath sharp.

“There’s been another murder—near the bridge.”

Raz entered the room just a second later.

“The victim died a day before he was hung,” he reported flatly.

“It just doesn’t get better!” Sirius snapped, pushing back his chair as he stood.