The stillness of the Takahashi estate lingered in the air like a suffocating fog, broken only by the hurried footsteps of Anwar and Anthony as they dragged Gerald back inside. The young guard’s face was pale, his wide eyes darting around like a hunted animal.
“I… I swear I didn’t mean to wander around,” Gerald stammered. “Something… something pulled me into the garden. I just… got lost.”
Takumi’s sharp gaze pierced through him, but he said nothing, gesturing for Anwar and Anthony to continue their investigation.
When they reached the surveillance room, the scene before them deepened the mystery. Two guards, barely conscious and bloodied, were slumped against the consoles. Their wounds weren’t life-threatening but told a tale of a brutal struggle. The air in the room was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the faint hum of the untouched monitors.
“Junel,” one of the injured guards managed to rasp. “It… it was him. He attacked us out of nowhere… like he was possessed.”
Anthony and Anwar exchanged uneasy glances, their grips tightening on their holstered weapons. Takumi, calm as ever, crouched beside the wounded man. “Are you certain?” he asked softly, his tone betraying no emotion.
The guard nodded weakly. “Yes… it was him. His eyes… they weren’t right. Something was wrong.”
Takumi straightened and turned to Anwar. “Secure the area. I want no one else wandering this house unaccounted for.”
• • •
Tomoya sat in front of the surveillance console, hesitating as his fingers hovered above the keyboard. His palms were damp, and a knot twisted in his stomach. The confirmation from the guards should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. He couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him.
He finally exhaled and began reviewing the footage. The grainy black-and-white visuals showed Junel entering the surveillance room, his movements unnaturally jerky. Without warning, he lunged at the guards, a wild glint in his eyes. His attacks were brutal and precise, but what unnerved Tomoya the most was Junel’s expression—or lack thereof. His face was eerily blank, like a puppet being manipulated by unseen strings.
Tomoya’s heart raced as he fast-forwarded to the footage from Samantha’s hallway. Junel appeared, knife in hand, his steps deliberate yet robotic. The scene that unfolded matched Samantha’s account perfectly. She had backed away, tried to reason with him, and when he attacked, she defended herself with a single, desperate stab. The timestamps confirmed it all, but something still didn’t sit right with Tomoya.
“Why, Junel?” he muttered to himself. “Why would you do this?”
Junel didn't even leave the manor. If he had seen Kaiser and Kim being intimate, maybe he would have a reason to snap, but no. It wouldn't even make sense why he would lash out at them, especially at Samantha—or perhaps, he did see something they weren't aware of?
• • •
Takumi joined Tomoya just as he finished reviewing the footage. His presence was a quiet but commanding force, and Tomoya looked up, searching his cousin’s face for answers he knew Takumi wouldn’t freely offer.
“She was telling the truth,” Tomoya said, his voice wavering slightly. “It was self-defense. There was indeed something’s off. Junel wasn’t acting like himself at all.”
Takumi nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the paused footage on the screen. “He wasn’t himself,” he murmured, more to himself than to Tomoya. “Something… or someone… was controlling him.”
Tomoya frowned. “Controlling him? Like… possession?”
“Perhaps,” Takumi replied cryptically. He turned to leave, but Tomoya grabbed his arm.
“Nii-san,” Tomoya said, his voice firm despite the fear lacing his words. “What aren’t you telling me? You know more about this, don’t you?”
Takumi hesitated, his expression unreadable. “Tomoya,” he said finally, “there are things at play here that go beyond what you and I can comprehend. Stay focused on the facts for now. We need to protect Shane. For now, that is what matters.”
Tomoya released his grip, watching as Takumi disappeared down the hallway. The unanswered questions weighed heavily on him, but he knew better than to push Takumi for answers he wasn’t ready to give.
The faint hum of the station’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Takumi sat across from Zach, his expression stoic yet tired. The morning sun filtered weakly through the blinds, casting striped shadows across Zach’s cluttered desk.
Takumi’s gaze flickered briefly to Dryzza, who sat at a nearby desk, her fingers moving swiftly over her laptop keyboard. The three of them clearly hadn’t slept a wink. It had only been a few hours since Takumi left the station, and now here he was again.
Zach leaned back in his chair, pen tapping rhythmically against his notepad. “So, let me get this straight,” he began, exhaling heavily. “You let this Junel guy into your home after the earthquake because he was injured, and now you’re telling me he tried to kill someone under your roof? On top of that, you?”
Takumi’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s as absurd to me as it sounds to you,” he replied, his tone clipped. “Junel was desperate. I thought I was helping a man in need.”
Zach’s brow furrowed as he scribbled notes, each stroke of his pen carrying an undertone of skepticism. “And yet, this man had a partner and child. Why didn’t he go to them? Why come to you?”
Takumi sighed, a faint trace of annoyance flashing across his features. “That is a question I cannot answer,” he admitted, his gaze shifting to the floor. “Perhaps he felt safer with me. Perhaps there was trouble at home. I don’t know. All I know is that he needed help, and I offered it.”
Dryzza’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “We’ve confirmed a call between Junel and his girlfriend, Kim,” she announced, her eyes still fixed on her screen. “The conversation suggests a lover’s quarrel. The last text exchange between them was a few weeks ago, but it’s vague.”
Zach raised an eyebrow. “And what do these texts say?”
Dryzza glanced up, her expression neutral. “They’re broad—discussions about trust, missed meetings, and vague accusations. Nothing conclusive. But it’s clear there was strain in their relationship.”
Zach turned his attention back to Takumi. “And your cousin, Tomoya? You said he was the last one to speak with Junel?”
Takumi nodded. “Yes. Tomoya handled most of the communication. He can provide more context.”
Before Zach could respond, Dryzza’s gaze shifted toward the entrance of the station. Her hands stilled on the keyboard, and a subtle tension crept into her posture. “Zach,” she said quietly, her eyes narrowing. “We’ve got company.”
Takumi followed her line of sight, his jaw tightening when he saw who had entered. Kim and Kaiser stood at the threshold, their presence like a storm cloud darkening the room.
Kim’s expression was one of practiced calm, but there was an edge to her demeanor, a quiet intensity that set Takumi on high alert. Beside her, Kaiser was stoic, his eyes scanning the room with an air of quiet menace.
Zach straightened in his seat, his pen stilling in his hand. “Well, this just got interesting,” he muttered under his breath.
Kim stepped forward, her gaze locking onto Takumi’s. “Dr. Takahashi,” she began, her voice steady but laced with a hint of challenge. “We need to talk.”
• • •
In the quiet moments that followed, the weight of the situation settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. Takumi’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the puzzle. Junel’s erratic behavior, the surveillance footage, the injured guards—all of it pointed to something far more sinister than a simple act of desperation.
Tomoya’s earlier task of deleting the footage had been carried out with precision, ensuring no trace of the night’s events could be uncovered.
The official story was that the earthquake had damaged the CCTV lines, leaving them without any visual evidence. It was a calculated move, one designed to protect Samantha—and by extension, the secrets Takumi was determined to keep buried.
But now, with Kim and Kaiser standing before him, those secrets felt more fragile than ever.
“What brings you here?” Zach asked, breaking the silence.
Kim’s gaze didn’t waver from Takumi. “We’re here about Junel,” she said simply. “We want to know what happened.”
Takumi’s expression remained unreadable. “He attacked someone under my care,” he said evenly. “In self-defense, they struck back. Unfortunately, it was fatal.”
Kim’s eyes narrowed, her calm facade cracking ever so slightly. “And you expect me to believe that? That Junel—a man I’ve known for years—would do something like that without provocation?”
“That’s the reality,” Takumi replied, his tone unwavering. “Whether you believe it or not is up to you.”
Kaiser stepped forward, his towering presence adding weight to the moment. “You’re hiding something,” he said bluntly. “And we’re going to find out what it is.”
Takumi smiled. He had known from the beginning what these two were after. It wasn’t justice they sought, but a way into his home, his sanctuary—using Junel’s case as their entry point. He could feel the growing suspicion surrounding Samantha’s sudden disappearance, the whispers of her reappearance lurking in the shadows. Takumi had expected it all.
That’s why he’d moved Samantha into Tomoya’s care, erasing every trace of her existence as if she had never stepped foot into his world. But he knew—he could feel it—that they were getting closer. And he was prepared to ensure that some things remained hidden, no matter the cost.
Takumi met his gaze, unflinching and looked at Kim.
“You’re welcome to try. But for someone who supposedly knew him for years—his girlfriend, no less—it’s surprising how calm you are after hearing what happened to him.”
Kim’s expression remained unreadable. Not a twitch, not a flicker of emotion crossed her face. If anything, the corner of her lips curled ever so slightly, as if amused by Takumi’s words. The air between them grew heavy, the unspoken tension stretching thin like glass about to shatter.
“If grief could turn back time, he’d be sitting right here with us,” Kim finally said, voice smooth as silk yet laced with something sharp. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into Takumi’s. “If my tears had the power to raise the dead, Junel would be walking around with more lives than a cat.”
A slow, mocking smile tugged at her lips. “But they don’t. And crying is a waste of time.”
Her words were taunting, a challenge wrapped in indifference. It was the kind of response that made everyone in the room sit up straighter, the realization sinking in—Kim wasn’t grieving. She wasn’t even pretending to.
Takumi studied her, the gears in his mind turning as he tried to piece together the unsettling detachment she displayed. There was no sorrow, no anger—only a controlled, almost theatrical disinterest. It was as if Junel’s death was nothing more than an inconvenience to her.
Zach, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke up. “So, you’re saying you don’t care that he’s dead?” His tone was measured, but the sharp edge was impossible to miss.
Kim gave a slow shrug. “I’m saying that my emotions won’t change the fact that he’s gone. What’s done is done.”
Kaiser, standing beside her with his arms crossed, chuckled under his breath. “Let’s be honest here, Detective. Junel made his choices, and he paid the price. The only thing left to ask is—” He turned his gaze toward Takumi, his smirk widening. “—who benefits from his death the most?”
Takumi didn’t flinch, but he could feel the shift in the room. They were trying to redirect the suspicion, testing the waters to see if they could turn the tables.
“Interesting perspective,” Dryzza muttered, tapping her pen against the table. “But tell me something, Miss Kim—why haven’t you asked how he died?”
For the first time, a flicker of something passed through Kim’s eyes. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Takumi caught it.
She tilted her head slightly, as if considering the question. “Does it matter?”
Zach scoffed. “Of course it matters.”
Kim exhaled through her nose, as if she found their persistence exhausting. “Fine. How did he die?”
Takumi leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “One stab. Not to the heart. Yet, he died instantly.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Kim’s eyes flickered to Kaiser, a subtle exchange passing between them.
“That’s unfortunate,” Kaiser said, the mock sympathy in his voice almost comical.
Takumi didn’t miss the way Kim’s fingers tensed ever so slightly before she relaxed again.
Something was off. They weren’t surprised—if anything, they seemed to be confirming something.
Zach narrowed his eyes. “Where were you two last night?”
Kim smiled. It wasn’t warm. “Together.”
“Why—" Dryzza cut herself off when she asked a personal question. She glanced at Zach who only shrugged. "C-Can anyone confirm that?”
Kim and Kaiser exchanged a quick glance, their faces unreadable, though an undeniable tension lingered in the air. “No,” Kaiser said, his voice laced with amusement. “But if you think we had any hand in this, you’re wasting your breath. We’re just here to uncover the truth behind Junel’s death.”
Takumi stood, his sharp gaze locking on them. “The suspects are being interrogated as we speak, and you won’t be allowed near them,” he said firmly. “But let me assure you—none of them will bear the blame for a crime that you’ve set into motion.”
Kaiser smirked, a hint of defiance in his tone. “Is that an accusation, Doctor?”
Takumi offered a casual shrug, his piercing eyes betraying his indifference. “Not an accusation—just an observation. The two of you being here, together? It’s... peculiar.” Without another word, he turned to Zach and Dryzza. “My lawyers will handle the rest. I’ve said everything I needed to.”
Zach’s frown deepened. Takumi’s tactic of speaking directly to Kim and Kaiser without legal counsel present was deliberate, but now, Zach felt as though a critical opportunity for transparency had slipped through his fingers.
Dryzza and Zach stood respectfully, bowing slightly as Takumi left the room. He didn’t glance back at them, but his pace slowed as he caught Kim’s faint, knowing smile and Kaiser’s unflinching stare from the corner of his eye.
“They must have already confirmed about Shane through Junel,” Takumi muttered under his breath as he strode d
own the corridor. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of the puzzle.
As he approached the exit, he risked one last look over his shoulder, catching the pair exchanging cryptic smiles. His expression hardened. “Junel didn't randomly act,” he murmured to himself. “He was sent to kill Shane... he was sent by them."