Morning in Liverpool arrived with a grey sky and a cold wind that seeped through the cracks of old buildings. The city, still waking from its restless slumber, was a place of whispers and unsolved mysteries.
Inside Alexander Bluestone's office, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the aged aroma of books and parchment. The room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting shadows across the mahogany desk littered with case files, maps, and scattered notes about the Grim Reaper murders.
Alexander sat in his chair, dressed as sharply as always, his golden pocket watch resting beside him. His sapphire-blue eyes studied the murder reports spread out before him, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wooden surface.
Across from him, his allies were already present—his most trusted detectives in this hunt for the Grim Reaper.
Darmian Shakesforth, a man of twenty-four, leaned against a bookshelf, casually flipping through a file. His blonde hair was slightly tousled, giving him a carefree look, but his brown eyes were sharp and always observing.
Beside him sat Madison Oakwell, her long orange hair cascading over her shoulders, her green eyes scanning through documents with a focused intensity. Unlike Darmian, she wasn't one for casual chatter—she preferred hard facts and quick solutions.
Then, the door creaked open.
All three turned as Roselia Dukeforth stepped inside.
She wore a black, fitted coat over a white blouse, her long dark red hair tied in a loose ponytail. Her brownish-golden eyes held their usual sharpness, but there was something else there too—curiosity. She had agreed to work with Alexander, but trust? That was another matter.
Darmian's eyes widened slightly as he took in her appearance, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Damn, she looks good as hell."
Before anyone could react, Roselia moved.
With a swift motion, she kicked Darmian hard in the stomach, sending him stumbling back into the bookshelf with a grunt. Several books tumbled to the floor.
A tense silence followed.
Alexander, completely unfazed, picked up his pocket watch and calmly stated, "She doesn't like compliments. At least, not from anyone except me."
Darmian groaned, rubbing his abdomen. "Noted."
Madison sighed, shaking her head. "Can we move on before Roselia kills one of us?"
Alexander gestured toward the files on his desk. "We have work to do."
Roselia moved to the desk, her gaze shifting over the murder reports. "How many bodies so far?"
Madison answered without hesitation. "Nine. All found in different locations, no immediate connection between the victims."
Darmian, still recovering from the kick, added, "But they all had the same message left at the scene—'Death is inevitable.'"
Roselia narrowed her eyes. "So he wants fear. Wants people to feel powerless."
Alexander leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked. "That's one possibility. But there's something else."
He turned the files toward them, tapping one particular document. "The locations."
Madison leaned in. "What about them?"
Alexander's voice was low, precise. "They're forming a pattern."
Roselia's eyes flickered with understanding. "A map."
Alexander nodded. "And if we decipher it, we may find his next move before he makes it."
Darmian exhaled, finally straightening. "Then let's get to work."
The hunt was only beginning.