Crime Scene — 12:20 A.M.
Zoro was driving.
The road stretched ahead in long, empty lines, washed in pale streetlight. Sirius sat beside him in silence, his heart heavy—like stones dropped into an empty well, one by one, sinking without a sound.
They were driving to see their friend’s dead body.
Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands pressed against his forehead, as if the pressure might crack this reality apart. As if he could wake up any second.
Maybe it’s a nightmare, he told himself-Like the ones I always have.-
The car hummed softly, tires whispering against the road. No one spoke.
“How…?” Lihar finally asked.
The word barely made it out. Guilt clung to it—thick, suffocating.
Zoro’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles paling.
“We got a call from the station,” he said after a moment. His voice was steady—but only
just. “They said there’d been a murder.”
“It was early. And then…”
His grip tightened.
“Uncle Kareef called. He said Nilo was sent to babysit.”
Before Zoro could realise it and end the conversation, the car slowed to a stop in front of the house.
Nero Street.
“Let’s go,” Zoro said, stepping out of the car.
Lihar followed. He moved around the car and bent down toward Sirius’s window.
Sirius couldn’t move.
He looked at Lihar—his fierce, foxy eyes turning soft, stripped of their edge.
They said I don’t have the courage—and Lihar read them.
Lihar scoffed.
“Courage?” he said flatly. “You think this is about courage?”
Sirius didn’t answer.
Lihar leaned closer.
“You don’t get to choose comfort now.”
He grabbed Sirius by the arm—tight.
“This is who we are,” he said. “Face it.”
Sirius stayed frozen.
“Stand up, Sirius Kareef.”
Lihar didn’t wait.
He pulled him out of the car, the cold slamming into them both as the door swung shut.
Zoro placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder.
They stepped inside.
The wooden floor was splashed with black paint—up the walls too, smeared as if someone had dragged the night itself through the house.
Sirius slowly lifted his head.
The smell hit him first.
Petrol.
Sharp. Burning.
Black footprints climbed the stairs, pressed deep into the wood, everywhere—too many.
They moved forward.
The living room came into view.
Shattered pieces of blackened glass littered the floor, scattered like decorations on a cake.
DT Raz was already there.He turned when he saw them, his face tightening at the sight of their grief. He stepped closer.
“It’s better if you leave,” he said quietly.
Before anyone could reply—
Their eyes landed on the body.
It was half-sunken into the wooden floor, as if the house itself had swallowed him. The boards were broken inward, his face forced down, buried inside the wood.
Only the back of his head remained visible.
His stature.
His hair.
His size.
They matched Nilo perfectly.
Only Sirius moved forward.
He pulled on a pair of black nitrile gloves with an audible snap.
His eyes dulled—not empty, just distant. Like someone who hadn’t slept in days and no longer expected rest.
He crouched and began at the feet which were painted black. Thick, uneven. Still wet in places just Nilo’s size.
Without pausing, he worked his way up, his gaze steady, trained. The legs were twisted at an angle that didn’t belong to a fall. The torso was pressed too deep into the floor, the wooden boards split inward instead of out—no blood, no signs of dragging. Just pressure.
Then the head.
Only part of it visible, the rest swallowed by broken wood. Sirius slowed.
For the first time, he hesitated.He reached out and slid his fingers into the hair which were brown and almost forcefully straight.
Sirius straightened his back without getting up, his eyes opening fully.
“Get the body out,” he said.
The forensics team didn’t move.
Sirius looked at them, confused.
“Why are you standing there?” he demanded.
No one answered.
Then a voice cut through the room- the one Sirius couldn’t bear.
“Unfortunately, they can’t.”
Sirius turned.
Mr. Cidah stood near the doorway, hands clasped behind his back.
“Due to your personal involvement,” Cidah continued, “this case is officially and legally reassigned to me and Detective Lihar.”
The words landed like a verdict.
Sirius stood up , anger flashing through him. He shook his head, disbelief twisting his features.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.
Cidah didn’t flinch.
“It’s legal authority,” he said calmly. “You should’ve been removed the moment your name came up. Frankly, I should have informed Zoro sooner.”
Sirius took a step forward.
“I can solve this faster than you ever could,” Cidah went on. “Because I use logic—not emotions.”
“That’s not—” Sirius started.
Before he could finish, two officers moved in, gripping his arms firmly.
“Take him,” Cidah said.
Two words were more then enough to demonstrate his authority.
Sirius turned to Raz.
Raz met his gaze—then looked away, lifting his hands slightly in a helpless gesture. There was nothing he could do.
Then Lihar stepped forward.
He glared at Sirius, sharp and warning, his voice low enough that only he could hear.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Sirius laughed once—short, breathless. Not amused.The two officers tightened their grip.
“Remember, where you are” Lihar added.
Sirius inhaled once.
Then he shook his arms free.
“I’ll leave by myself,” he said.
Sirius stepped outside, the cold air striking his face. A car horn beeped once. He looked up and saw
Kyrokuto, his uncle, waiting with the window already lowered.
“I’m out of the case as well,” Kyrokuto said.
Sirius didn’t ask why. He got in.
“They’re wasting time,” Sirius said, opening his laptop as the car pulled away. “We need to trace what Nilo did yesterday.”
Kyrokuto kept his eyes on the road. “Did you find any clues at the scene?”
“The face is burned,” Sirius replied. “Forensics will need at least a day—maybe two—to confirm the identity.”
Kyrokuto glanced at him. “Is recognition even necessary?”
“They didn’t find a laptop,” Sirius said. “And Nilo doesn’t go anywhere without one.” He paused, then added,
“The hair of the victim is straight, yes—but not that straight. Nilo’s hair is fine. Silk-straight. The kind you don’t forget.”
“You think it isn’t him?” Kyrokuto asked while taking a turnover.
“I’m not thinking,” Sirius said. “I’m sure.”
Sirius tried tracing the laptop. Nothing.
He exhaled slowly, then shifted.
“But he had an emergency walkie-talkie,” he said, fingers already moving. “He used it as a navigator.”
Kyrokuto glanced over. “You can track that?”
“Yes.” Sirius’s screen lit up. “Signal triangulation.”
He paused waiting for it to load.
“Found it.”
Kyrokuto slowed the car.
“The laptop was last shut down before he even reached Nero Street,” Sirius said. “Which means he never entered the house.”
He pulled up another tracking map.
“The walkie-talkie is still transmitting. Low frequency but trackable.”
Kyrokuto’s grip tightened on the wheel. “So…”
“He was taken,” Sirius said. “Kidnapped.”
“Who would do that?” Kyrokuto asked.
“Petrol like that is hard to get,” Sirius said. “Industrial-grade. And the black footprints—intentional, symbolic.”
He looked at the screen again.
“Shadow Syndicate.”
“Before Carlos died, he leaked one of their key files,” Sirius said as he stepped out of the car. “That’s why they’d come after his son.”
Kyrokuto watched him closely,while they both got off the car. “You think that’s the only reason?”
“No.” Sirius unlocked the front gate, the metal clicking softly in the quiet street. “Exposure alone wouldn’t be enough to lead them to Nilo.”
They entered Kareef’s house—large, white-walled, with a centered balcony overlooking the front drive. Immaculate. Expensive. A place that reflected Kareef’s well-paid.
Nilo had lived here with them.
Sirius didn’t slow. He went straight to the garage.
From a locked steel cabinet, he took out what he needed: a compact handgun slid into a shoulder holster, followed by a discreet earpiece he fit carefully into place. He checked the lightweight vest beneath his jacket, secured a slim tactical blade at his side.
He stripped out of his coat and button-down, changing into dark cargo pants and a high-neck top, pulling a thick jacket over it for the cold. He laced his boots—reinforced soles, worn but reliable—then slipped on black lenses, hiding his eyes completely.
Kyrokuto watched him. “You’re going after them.”
“I’m bringing him back,” Sirius said, securing the holster at his side.
“Lihar and Zoro—are you not going to tell them?”
Sirius didn’t look up, he packed his backpack with rope and other stuff. “Let them play detectives with Cidah. I need them to keep him distracted.”
Kyrokuto shook his head. “Lihar is going to beat the hero out of you.”
Sirius paused at the garage door.
“He can try.”
Then, quieter—“Uncle, I need you to find the identity of the victim. Forensics will take three days. I don’t have that time.”
Kyrokuto stepped closer and kissed his forehead. “Be safe. Shall I drop you off?”
“No,” Sirius said. “I’ll take the train. It’s going to be a long drive. They took Nilo out of Fitta.”
Kyrokuto nodded. “Then I’ll drop you at the station.”
Forensic department 3 PM
They had finally extracted the body, and just as Sirius had predicted—the face was burned beyond recognition.
“No unusual footprints?” Zoro frowned, scanning the report.
“None,” he added after a moment. “No traces at all. Whoever did this was precise. Clean.”
Cidah spoke as he poured sugar into his coffee mug.
“There are always mistakes,” he said calmly. “You just haven’t found them yet.”
Zoro looked up. “Then how do you explain the child? Ozgur survived in the basement.”
Cidah took a slow sip of his black coffee.
“He didn’t survive,” he said. “He was deliberately spared. The child saw the culprit.”
Lihar added “Which means the culprit wants us to know something.”
“And the child is unconscious,” Lihar added. “They’re buying time.”
“Without doubt,” Cidah said. “So we wait. We stay patient.”
Zoro without hesitation sat. “I know someone who won’t be. We need information from him—the only one who knew Nilo that closely.” He referred to Sirius
Lihar nodded and made the call.
-The person you’re trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later.-
“He’s probably sulking somewhere,” Lihar muttered.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Zoro replied, deliberately ignoring the side glance Cidah shot him.
Zoro straightened, more serious now. “We still need him involved—officially. Not as a suspect, but as a point of reference.”
Cidah raised an eyebrow.
“He knew the victim’s habits,” Zoro continued. “Daily routines. Contacts. What he carried, where he went, what he wouldn’t leave behind. That kind of insight doesn’t come from files.”
Lihar nodded. “We’re not investigating him. We’re investigating around him.”
Cidah took another sip of coffee, considering.
“Fine,” he said at last. “Forensics won’t have a confirmed identity until tomorrow anyways. Until then, you can gather everything else.”
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