Chapter 1: The Owl
For the last three months, a series of twelve murders had gone unnoticed by the public—but not by him.
Four were detectives. The remaining eight were relatives—wives, children, siblings. All connected. All targeted.
Each death came silently. Poison or a clean shot to the head. No fingerprints. No cameras. No trails. And every victim? One of the country’s top minds in law enforcement. The National Detective Unit was desperate—and blind.
Kade’s fingers moved across his keyboard, the blue light reflecting off his expressionless face. His screen glowed with clippings, police reports, timelines. But no clues.
He blinked slowly.
Then—ping.
His phone lit up beside the keyboard. A new notification.
“Huh?”
Kade picked it up. The message was from an unknown email.
> “Hello Owl,
As we are in a desperate place, as I assume you know, we formally request your assistance.”
Blank stare.
No emotion.
Another message followed.
> valcehom.com
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
A link. Kade clicked.
The screen flickered. A secure call interface loaded. Three anonymous users already online. One of them spoke—their voice heavily distorted.
“My name is Voice,” the synthetic tone said, “the number one detective in the country. All members of this call remain anonymous. The NDC has reached out to us directly for assistance. We are expected to cooperate to solve the detective murders… or risk our identities being exposed.”
Silence. Then—
“I am Ruki. I accept… and I have a plan.”
Kade sat unmoving. Then finally spoke, voice low and emotionless.
“I also accept. And have already begun my inspection.”
“The one who hasn’t said a thing,” Voice added, “speak.”
A deep, calm voice replied, “My name is Man. I accept.”
The screen blinked off.
---
At school the next day, Kade leaned against the hallway wall, unreadable as ever. His hood was up, shadowing his eyes. Students laughed and chatted around him, their world far simpler.
Elis and Jason—his only two friends—approached.
“Yo, Kade!” Jason grinned. Kade gave a small nod.
Elis smiled too. “You comin’ to class or just staring at ghosts again?”
Kade barely glanced at her. A small shrug.
She rolled her eyes. “Classic.”
He didn’t speak.
They walked together in silence.
---
Later that evening, Kade unlocked the door to a small, neatly kept home. Warm smells of stew and rice drifted from the kitchen.
His grandmother looked up from the stove. “Welcome home, sweetie.”
He placed his bag down and walked past her, quiet as ever.
“You eatin’ tonight or doing that ‘ghost hunting’ thing again?”
He paused, then turned back slightly. “After.”
“You better,” she said, chuckling. “And don’t stay up too late.”
---
Kade’s room was dimly lit, paper scattered on the desk. Old photos, scribbled notes, crime scene snapshots. He leaned over them, eyes scanning.
One photo. A detective found slumped at his desk. A faint mark on the neck—barely visible.
Another. A woman collapsed in her home, coffee still warm on the table. A ring with a hidden needle had been found.
He pieced it together like a puzzle. His thoughts spun fast, but his face remained unreadable.
> “All victims were elite.
All had open cases.
All lived predictably… same coffee shop. Same route. Same routine.
Someone’s been watching longer than they realize.”
More pages flipped.
> “This isn’t rage. It’s a purge. Someone’s cleaning house. But why now?
They knew where to strike. And when.
They’re not just smart.
They’re one of us.”
Ping.
A text from Elis.
> “Wyd?”
He glanced at the clock. 10:45 PM.
Kade shut his laptop and picked up his phone.
> “Coffee shop tomorrow?”
> “Sure. 10am.”
> “Yeah.”
---
The next morning, the café buzzed softly with life. Kade sat across from Elis, who sipped her latte and did most of the talking. He stayed quiet, nodding when needed, sipping slowly from his cup.
“Jason totally bombed the math quiz again,” Elis said, rolling her eyes. “Swear he’s allergic to studying.”
Kade didn’t respond. Just blinked.
Then… he felt it.
Eyes. Watching.
Through the window, across the street, a tall man in a gray coat sat at a bus stop bench. A newspaper covered his face, but not well enough. He looked up just once—right at Kade.
Too still. Too sharp.
> “Not watching us. Watching me.”
Kade kept his gaze locked forward, not giving away what he noticed. The man didn’t move. He was waiting.
And then it hit him—
> “They’re not just after detectives.
They’re watching me now.”
---
[End of Chapter 1]
Next: “The Owl Begins to Hunt”
