Hanged To Death

Pete the Butcher whistled a strange, off-tune melody as he made his way to Doner Residential Area. Before he reached the gate, he glanced off in another direction.

Not long after, a car pulled up to the roadside.

A man in a pink shirt, reeking of alcohol, stumbled out of the vehicle. He swore under his breath and kicked the door of a nearby car in frustration. He always parked in that exact spot, conveniently close to the estate entrance.

It wasn't an official parking space, just a spot adjacent to the first parking space. Since no one ticketed cars here at night, it had become his habitual spot. But tonight, someone else had beaten him to it, and that had soured his mood even further.

As the pink-shirted man continued to mutter curses, he heard someone whistling.

It was the same odd, off-key tune.

He turned toward the estate gate, his vision hazy from the alcohol.

Through the blur, he saw a figure approaching.

Gradually, the figure took shape, and it looked like none other than Pete, drenched in blood. The man's familiar face, once honest and simple, now wore a disturbingly bright smile that made the pink-shirted man's skin crawl.

Even in his drunken state, the pink-shirted man sensed something was wrong. His instincts screamed at him to run, especially seeing Pete drenched in blood. But old habits die hard.

Without thinking, he sneered and spat out, "No money. Waiting here won't help. Just get lost."

What he didn't know was that the man standing before him wasn't the meek and submissive Pete. This was Pete the Butcher, the manifestation of the repressed anger and resentment.

Pete the Butcher's smile widened even further.

Unhurriedly, he stepped forward, placing one blood-soaked hand on the man's shoulder.

His touch sent a cold, piercing chill down the pink-shirted man's spine, leaving him frozen in place. Then, Pete slowly pulled out a blood-red rope and looped it around the man's neck.

As the eerie whistling died down, it was replaced by a cheerful, almost playful tune.

With the pink-shirted man in tow, Pete began walking toward a nearby streetlamp, dragging him like a balloon caught in a string.

The man's body floated, limp and weightless, his eyes wide in horror, but he could do nothing—couldn't scream, couldn't move. His body had become a mere puppet, and all he could do was watch helplessly.

Pete the Butcher, still smiling, gently adjusted the man's posture so he could get a good view of what was about to happen. He watched as Pete tied the blood rope to the streetlamp.

Once everything was in place, Pete stepped back, watching with amusement as the man's body suddenly dropped.

There was a sharp crack as his neck snapped, his body convulsing like a fish gasping for air. Gradually, the sounds of his labored breaths faded away.

From beginning to end, the pink-shirted man didn't even have a chance to beg for his life.

Pete the Butcher, satisfied with his handiwork, whistled his cheerful tune and vanished into the night.

———

A ten-thousand-dollar car cruised past the Serene City First Hospital. Behind the wheel sat a bespectacled man, his gaze sweeping toward the hospital's inpatient building. He sighed.

"So, it's really gone. What a waste."

Beside him sat a stack of documents—the same ones Harry had used. He casually flipped through them before tossing them aside.

"No wonder she failed so miserably. Even with everything going for her, she was crushed by the rules. Kai certainly knows what he's doing. He's not like that incompetent fool before him."

He glanced back at the man sitting in the rear seat, who was wearing a mask. "Spread the word. Tell the others to lay low for a while. Especially Black Shadow. That idiot was seen near Kai the other day."

"Does he not realize that someone who can be parachuted into the position of Minister of South's Blazing Sun Division isn't an ordinary person?"

"Understood, boss," the masked man replied, adjusting his earpiece and making a call.

A moment later, his expression darkened. "Boss, there's been an incident. Black Shadow... he's dead."

The bespectacled man's gaze sharpened. "When? Where? Who did it?"

"Just outside that newbie's estate—the one from the funeral home."

"Drive over there."

The car made a sharp turn at the next intersection, heading toward Harry's neighborhood.

As they passed by, the bespectacled man looked out of the window and saw a dark figure hanging from a streetlamp, its form eerily still.

His brow furrowed. This wasn't what he had expected.

Two more shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, and one by one, the streetlights flickered and died, casting the area in an ominous shadow.

"Tell them to clean this up quickly."

"Boss, was it the newbie guy who did this?"

"No, and it wasn't the Blazing Sun Division either. Neither of them would have the means to gut Black Shadow and string him up like that. By the way, have we figured out who that newbie is?"

"We've run his background. Nothing unusual, but there's a good chance he can enter the old morgue. Our people haven't had the chance to test him yet. Apparently, he was poisoned recently and has been in the hospital. Black Shadow was supposed to be keeping an eye on him..."

"Enough. Black Shadow had more enemies than I can count. His death was inevitable. Just make sure next time we don't waste resources on idiots who don't follow the rules."

The car sped past the crossroads, disappearing into the night.

———

Harry woke up feeling groggy. He had slept through the entire day and night, his body finally recovering from the exhaustion. Stretching, he checked the time—it was already seven in the morning. After making himself a simple bowl of noodles, he decided it was time to head back to work.

At 7:30, as Harry arrived at the funeral home, he spotted Victor's car parked outside. It seemed the man was already inside.

Harry gave him a quick call. "I see you. I'm at the gate."

Catching up with Victor, they walked side by side into the building.

"Why so early? Did something happen?"

"There's been a death by hanging under a streetlamp. Doesn't seem like a regular case, so I thought I'd check it out."

"Well, since we're both here, I've got something to ask you..." Harry quickly recounted Pete's story. "Any idea who I could talk to about getting his wages back? I know the whole suing process will take forever, and we don't have time for that."

"That's easy. It's a legitimate case. I'll pull a few strings for you."

They reached the morgue, heading toward the autopsy room in the far corner. The morgue wasn't used too often, mostly for assisting the Blazing Sun Division with abnormal cases.

As they peered through the glass into the room, Harry's face paled.

"Wait, what? Is that..."

Victor followed his gaze, realizing what he meant. "You're saying that guy—the one you were talking about—is the same guy here on the table?"

Although the man's face was twisted and distorted in death, Harry recognized him immediately.

"That's him. What happened?"

His first thought was that Pete might have snapped and done something drastic.

Victor pulled out his notebook and played a surveillance video. The footage showed the pink-shirted man stumbling out of his car, clearly drunk, before climbing a streetlamp, tying a belt around his neck, and hanging himself.

"We've checked from multiple angles. All the footage shows the same thing. He was way past the legal limit for alcohol. How he even managed to climb up like that, especially when he never exercised, is beyond me."

"Any leads?"

"It might be more complicated than we thought."

"Complicated how?"

"Remember the chemical plant in Serene City that was shut down for safety violations? Turns out there were some... other issues involved—things under the Blazing Sun Division's jurisdiction. This guy was a contractor for part of the plant's construction. There's a good chance he knew too much and was silenced."

Harry nodded. "Sounds reasonable."