Chapter 1: Secrets of the Night
Chapter One – Secrets of the Night
Knock… knock… knock…
Who would knock at the door at such a late hour?
Silence blanketed the place, and the air was so still it felt as though the entire city had held its breath. No sound could be heard except that faint knocking, as if it had risen from the very depths of the night itself.
At such an hour, no one visits—unless bearing grave news… or a harbinger of danger.
Knock… knock… knock…
The sound grew louder. This time, the knocking was fierce, as if the hand striking the door wasn't merely seeking to be heard—but to force its way in.
The man approached the door cautiously, reached for the handle, and called out in a voice tinged with irritation:
"Who's there? What do you want at this hour?"
No answer.
He waited a few moments, then muttered under his breath, annoyed:
"Damn it… must be some idiot playing around."
He took two steps back into the house, preparing to return to his room. But the knocking came again, this time with a terrifying force.
Knock… knock… knock…
The door nearly shook off its hinges.
He froze in place, a cold shiver crawling down his spine. His heart pounded violently, and fear crept into his chest like thick smoke.
Slowly, he reached for the door handle again, and made up his mind—he would open it, no matter the cost.
He opened the door cautiously—and found a stranger standing before him. The man's features were pale, his eyes unfocused. He looked exhausted, confused, and afraid.
His gaze was clouded, yet carried a hint of pleading—as if he were searching for shelter, escape, or someone to save him.
The man asked hesitantly in a low voice,
"Can I help you?"
The stranger replied, his voice trembling, barely audible:
"You… brought this upon yourself."
---
Early that morning, the shrill sound of police sirens pierced the neighborhood's silence. Blue lights reflected off glass façades, and officers cordoned off the scene with yellow tape.
They moved quickly, their faces tight with tension. The city had witnessed yet another murder… the fifth this week.
An officer handed the case file to the lead investigator, saying,
"Sir, same method. No fingerprints, no witnesses, no traces. Just… the symbol."
He pointed at the wall.
There, engraved with eerie precision within a dark circle, was the number: 17.
The lead officer replied in a cold voice,
"Get on with your work. Leave the rest to me."
Soren Blackwell arrived at the scene, clad in his dark coat, walking with the slow, steady stride that marked his presence.
Behind him stood Detective Kaiser, wearing his usual sarcastic smile.
"Still chasing the same criminal, Soren?"
Kaiser said lightly.
Without looking back, Soren replied,
"Step aside, Kaiser… your chatter breaks my focus."
"Still as cold as ever…"
Kaiser muttered with a soft chuckle.
Another officer approached—he wore a blue uniform with an official insignia on his shoulder—and spoke respectfully,
"Sir, there's an elderly woman outside. Says she knew the victim."
Soren answered calmly, his voice sharp as a blade,
"Let her in."
The woman entered with slow steps, her back hunched, eyes brimming with tears.
"Please, madam. This is Detective Kaiser, and I am Soren Blackwell."
Soren stood firm. He was about six feet tall, with a lean, balanced build. His features were strangely handsome—not the kind that invited admiration, but silence.
His cheekbones were sharp, his eyes a steely grey, as though they'd seen enough to no longer be surprised. His hair was long, dark, tied neatly behind him. He didn't seem to care much about appearance, but about order.
His voice was low—but carried a weight no one could mistake.
The woman spoke in a trembling voice,
"Detectives… what happened to my son? I haven't seen him in days…"
Kaiser answered formally,
"I'm sorry, ma'am… your son was found dead in his apartment. The evidence points to… suicide."
"No! That's impossible!"
The woman cried, collapsing to her knees in uncontrollable sobs.
Soren stepped toward her, bent slightly, and said in a calm tone,
"We do not rush to conclusions. We're here to understand what happened—and we will do all we can to uncover the truth."
The woman struggled to breathe, then said between broken gasps,
"My son… he wasn't the type to give up. He was ambitious… full of dreams…"
Soren nodded, gently urging her on,
"Did you notice anything strange recently?"
"He was nervous… said people were watching him. He spoke of things I didn't understand. He seemed scared… like he was being hunted."
Soren looked at Kaiser, then said,
"We need to visit his workplace. That's where we begin."
The woman stood, wiped her tears with trembling hands, and began to leave.
Soren said in his steady voice,
"I promise you, ma'am… we won't leave until we know the truth."
---
At the police station, Soren sat at his desk, reviewing the victim's file.
Around him, some officers spoke in hushed tones—but when he spoke, silence fell.
He said, eyes fixed on the papers:
"Secrets of the night… have begun to stir."
All eyes turned to him.
But Soren did not look up…
For he had already begun to hear the whispers of the night's secrets.