Rainy Night

When Jorgen reached halfway, it started to rain. Initially, he heard the raindrops on the eaves along the street, but soon the footsteps of pedestrians echoed through the water-covered streets. Rain permeated everything: on window panes, between the cracks of stone walls, around carriage wheels. The entire world under the thick, gray sky was drenched. Rainwater streamed down Jorgen's face, as if trying to wash away his jumbled and restless thoughts.

On the day Farad left the MI7, the old man had given Jorgen an order: "Go to Dalia and do something for me." In the following seconds, Jorgen's heart felt like an unwanted stone in a desert, momentarily buried under a storm of swirling yellow sand. It wasn't despair but a severance—an understanding that the reality his mind clung to was about to be severed by a single sentence. If these seconds were extended, he might have calmed down and concluded that the old man could never have ordered him to harm Dalia. But time was not generous, and within these limited seconds, Jorgen could only feel a terrifying blankness, and beyond that void, all past realities related to her were about to be severed, as if a heavy fishing net snapped and sank into the sea bottom. After the true purpose was revealed, Jorgen managed to pull the net full of reality ashore, starting to breathe again after exhaustion.

Now, he felt a similar sensation. This time, though not as abrupt and intense, the fishing net was much heavier after several months. If it sank again, Jorgen doubted he would have the strength to pull it back. Although, based on the current clues, he had no reason to believe Dalia was in danger, the earthquake of the old man's command was replaced by a slow-burning flame. It had been burning for months, and Jorgen was oblivious. When he met with the dying Holmyr, he never anticipated that he would kiss her shortly afterward, and all events might have started even before that meeting. While he had reason to believe that what happened around Gythra had nothing to do with Dalia, reasonable was not enough; he urgently needed to witness this speculation turning into reality. Nothing would happen. He hoped.

Just as Jorgen arrived at the street corner near the house, he sensed that reality might not comply with his wishes because he saw Daisy standing outside the fence, frantically wiping raindrops from her face and anxiously scanning both sides of the street. Jorgen approached, and Daisy, upon seeing him, expressed with her eyes: she was looking for him. She ran towards Jorgen and tightly grasped his arm, as if a drowning person reaching for a rescuer's arm to get back to shore.

"Magistrate Jorgen, Magistrate Jorgen."

"What happened? Tell me quickly."

Daisy couldn't articulate anything. Her lips trembled under the assault of raindrops. Just as Jorgen was about to leave her and enter the courtyard alone, she finally spoke: "I... I ran out. I'm sorry, I... um, I saw Mr. Lindy lying at the entrance to the backyard, and there was blood on the ground."

"What about the lady? Where is she?"

"I don't know; I ran out. The lady must still be inside... the prosecutor, Prosecutor Sir is inside too. Initially, the three of them were talking in the backyard. I was going to bring tea, but when I saw Mr. Lindy..."

Her voice choked. "I left the lady! I'm sorry! I was too scared... But I remembered that Mr. Aved often patrols nearby, looking after the house. So, I came out to ask him for help. I found him, Mr. Aved! He went in, but asked me to stay outside and find you..."

"Are you sure Mr. Lindy is lying in the room leading to the backyard?"

"Yes, right at the entrance."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Ten minutes, twenty minutes maybe. I'm sorry, Magistrate Jorgen..."

"You go to the nearest security bureau and call for help. Any reason will do, say there's a robbery or something. Don't say I and Aved are dealing with it. When you come back, if the lady and I haven't come out, you and them can enter the house. Understand? Hurry."

Daisy nodded, wiped her eyes again, and turned to run towards the east side of the main road. Though involving the security bureau might bring additional trouble afterward, it was impossible for her to go all the way to the MI7, far across Stormwind City. Moreover, the so-called "trouble afterward" was not something Jorgen needed to consider at the moment.

If what Daisy said was true, Jorgen knew only two things: Lindy had been attacked, and Aved went inside. He couldn't even confirm whether Dalia and Ivanov were still inside.

Although it was closer to go directly through the side of the mansion to the backyard, he chose to pass through the house first. Upon entering, Jorgen saw muddy footprints on the ground. They seemed to belong to Aved, judging by their size and the large stride, undoubtedly pointing toward the room leading to the backyard. As Jorgen rushed through the corridor, he felt a strong urge to check every room he passed. If he had assistance, he would have ordered them to do so. But now, he could only glance inside each doorway and hasten toward the end of the corridor. There, he would take a right turn and see the large door leading to the backyard room.

As he turned the corner, Jorgen saw Aved. He was lying on the ground, seemingly trying to prop up his upper body with both elbows. Around his waist, blood streamed onto the floor. Jorgen crouched beside him.

"Magistrate Jorgen," Aved turned over, lying on his back, left hand pressing tightly against one side of his waist, the back of his fingers stained with fresh blood. "It's Ivanov. He... he had a gun."

"Where is the lady?"

"Probably in the backyard... When I got here... he was standing in front, shot me, and then turned and walked away." Aved pushed Jorgen's shoulder. "I'm fine, not badly hurt, I know. Go find the lady. He said something, I wasted his time... he's after the lady! Go quickly."

"Take care of yourself. I've already sent Daisy to call for help."

Aved nodded. Jorgen stood up and continued forward. The door was slightly ajar, but since Ivanov could use a gun to attack Aved, Jorgen had to charge forward regardless of the risk. He tried to calm himself, but it was like trying to bury a lit dynamite in the soil, hoping it would extinguish quietly. He unsheathed his dagger, desperately wanting to rush to the backyard, yet, due to the possibility that gun-wielding Ivanov might be behind the door, he had to slow down. The rain was too loud, and he couldn't hear much, nor could he focus on observing. So, as he approached the door, his footsteps ultimately hastened in a moment; he kicked the door open; the prosecutor was not there.

There was no one else in the house, and no obvious footprints. However, straight ahead, the door to the backyard was wide open, and there was a puddle of seemingly haphazardly wiped blood on the floor in front of the threshold.

According to Daisy, this should be where Lindy fell. Judging by the chaotic shape of the bloodstains, it seemed that someone had lain there and then disappeared. Rain blew in through the doorway, diluting some of the blood and flowing out of the door. Now, there was a significant change in what Jorgen knew: Aved was injured. The blood in front of him might not belong to Lind—Daisy might have been mistaken due to panic. Whoever the second injured person was, they were gone. However, the crucial point remained unchanged: Jorgen still had no idea what happened to Dalia.

Jorgen stepped out of the house and into the backyard. Rain stabbed into his eyes, momentarily blurring his vision. The sound of falling rain and the wind suddenly became sharp together. This was not a natural sound; Jorgen understood that some strange reaction was occurring deep in his brain. It felt as if every raindrop had turned into a clawed hand, scratching at his clothes, pulling at his skin, trying to drag him into a chaotic space devoid of anything but the sounds of tumultuous winds. Within his field of vision, he found no one.

No more plans. No more gathering clues. No more cautious actions after rational thinking.

"Dalia, where are you?" Jorgen shouted. The rain, like needlepoints, shattered his voice. "Dalia." No one answered. Of course, he never expected anyone to respond. But what to do next. The next step. What to do next. The next step. Go find her. The backyard was not large; go find her. Tighten the grip on the dagger. The rain was too heavy. Things shouldn't be like this. Shouldn't be like this. Even if his eyes had not seen anything yet.

Jorgen stepped onto the stone-paved path, but not far along, a figure emerged from the bushes on the right ahead. The person rushed towards him, almost colliding. Because of the heavy rain and inner turmoil, Jorgen didn't immediately recognize who it was. The person grabbed his shoulders, saying:

"There's no way, I can't. She's not saying anything. I can't do it anymore. I can't..."

It was Ivanov. It seemed he only recognized Jorgen after uttering a series of unclear words.

"You...? Jorgen. You've come here. You..."

Ivanov held Jorgen with both hands, unarmed. His eyes were wild and unfocused, with a hint of panic. His voice was weak but sounded hoarse, like continuous high roars. Seeing him lose control, Jorgen's brain suddenly became much clearer.

"Where is Dalia?" he said.

Ivanov seemed not to understand the significance of that name, half-opened his mouth, staring at Jorgen without focus.

"Speak."

"I... Dalia, she..."

"Be clear!"

"It's not my fault... She's not saying anything!"

Though these words gave Jorgen a strong sense of foreboding, whatever Ivanov had done, he understood continuing the questioning was a waste of time, and Ivanov didn't seem to have any attacking intentions. Jorgen planned to shake him off and continue searching for Dalia, but he found the completely disheveled prosecutor had tightened his grip on Jorgen's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Jorgen said, but he suddenly realized that Ivanov's eyes were not looking at him but towards the direction behind his shoulder; he also heard footsteps behind him, treading through the water. Jorgen immediately turned around, reflexively raised his right hand holding the dagger. This action was meaningless, as the person in front of him grabbed his right wrist. Recognizing Aved's eyes at the same time, Jorgen felt a sharp object pierce into his abdomen.