The Prime Suspect

In a dimly lit room where the only source of light came from a single lamp hanging low from the ceiling, casting soft shadows across the space. The glow barely extended beyond the square table at the center, where two chairs sat side by side.

On those chairs, Sergeant Kim and Inspector Ray sat with their eyes glued to the computer screen before them. They were reviewing the CCTV footage from the company building where a sudden death case had occurred earlier. The atmosphere was tense, as both men focused intensely, unwilling to miss even the slightest detail.

Sergeant Kim, after a few minutes, paused the video at a particular frame. He turned towards Inspector Ray, his face etched with concentration.

"Now, isn't it strange."

Sergeant Kim said, pointing at the screen.

"Look at the timestamp, it doesn't match."

Inspector Ray frowned, leaning in closer.

"You mean the man with the eye patch?"

He asked.

"Exactly."

Kim nodded.

"He enters the building after the woman wasalready dead, and it's so strange that he seemed to be in a rush, then he approached the elevator before stopping at the 45th floor, where he had gone to the restroom lobby."

Ray played the video again, watching the eye-patched man's movements carefully. The footage cut off when the man entered the restroom lobby—an area without camera surveillance. But they had been briefed on what had happened in there.

"So, you're saying he's not our prime suspect?"

Ray asked.

"Don't get me wrong."

Kim replied, shaking his head.

"I'm not ruling him out. But think about it: he can't be the killer if he entered the building after she was already dead, it's not possible, he can't be in two places at once. Still, his urgency and his behavior is an evident that he knows something."

Ray looked thoughtful for a moment, considering the possibility.

"Fair point."

He admitted.

"But what about that woman who helped him? The one who knocked out two of our elite officers in an instant? How do you explain that?"

Kim exhaled, clearly grappling with the same question.

"I don't really understand that part, but one thing I'm sure about is that these people are somehow connected with the lady's death. It couldn't be a mere coincidence. But I'm more interested in the man called Kante."

The name took Inspector Ray by surprise. His eyes widened.

"Kante? Why him?"

Kim's eyes narrowed.

"You probably didn't notice, but during our questioning earlier, his responses were too detached. Too... sterile. Even if the victim was just a colleague, there should've been some emotion in his answers. But with Kante? His voice, his face—there was nothing. No grief, no shock, just... cold indifference."

Kim explained.

Ray mulled it over, then his expression shifted to disbelief.

"So are you suspecting him now?"

Inspector Ray asked, still surprised.

"Not just suspecting him, but he looks like a criminal at a closer inspection, don't you see his dress?"

Sergeant Kim asked with a faint smile.

Inspector Ray thought about it for a while, then his eye widened as he stared at the sergeant in disbelief.

"Polished brown shoes, and black suit. Don't tell me, are you following that mad man's words."

Inspector Ray pointed at Kim in disbelief.

"Not really, but I think we should also dig into his background as well as the suspect."

Kim said with a smile.

---

Uche stare at the young woman who had claimed to be Mira, staring at her for several seconds, and with each passing second, his confidence seemed to be returning, slowly. Her presence, while unsettling, wasn't threatening in the way he had initially feared. There was something about her that felt... inviting, even calming. Slowly, he began to regain his composure.

Still, Uche wasn't one to let his guard down completely. He didn't trust her, not yet. In the back of his mind, he was already weighing his options—if things went south, he'd have no choice but to flee the city and never return. It was a decision he was reluctant to make, but it lingered like a shadow over every second that passed.

"You seem more relaxed now."

Mira said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

Uche glanced at her, his confidence returning, though he remained wary. He offered her a hard stare, but kept his silence, forcing her to look away.

"So what do you wish to know now."

She said, her voice more businesslike now.

He didn't hesitate. "Your motives," he said coldly. "Why did you save me? And what's your connection to the organ trafficking ring?"

Mira raised an eyebrow, almost amused by his bluntness.

"You know," she said with a small smile, "staring at me like that is a little unnerving. Can't you tone it down?"

She asked, her face slightly turning a shade of red.

Uche, surprisingly, did as she asked, lowering his gaze. But his mind was still racing.

'Do I look that scary.'

He wondered.

"As for your questions."

Mira continued, her voice smooth and casual,

"Well, how do I put it, I got involved with those people because of you. And I learned about you through them."

Uche's frown deepened, unease gnawing at him. Before he could press her further, Mira stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Suspicion flared in his mind—he didn't trust her sudden movements. Not wanting to leave her unsupervised, Uche followed.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, a crescent-shaped knife came hurtling through the air, aimed straight at his throat.

But Uche moved out of the way at the last seconds, completely avoiding the knife, due to the fact that he hadn't lost his guard for a second.

Rolling backward into the dining room, Uche grabbed the knife from the floor and pointed it at Mira as she stepped out of the kitchen, her demeanor having shifted drastically. The inviting warmth she had exuded earlier was gone, replaced by something cold and dangerous.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Uche demanded, his voice shaky despite his attempt to stay calm.

Mira's eyes glinted as she stalked toward him.

"Just testing something."

She replied, her tone menacing.

Without warning, she lunged at him, throwing a punch. Uche managed to parry her strike, his mind racing.

"I knew you were up to something! Just tell me what you want! You didn't save me twice just to kill me, right?"

Mira didn't respond. Instead, she launched another attack, this time with a sharp crescent kick. Uche dodged it by rolling to the side, narrowly avoiding her foot.

'Why are her attacks so slow?'

Uche thought, bewildered. He had seen her take down trained officers in seconds, but now her movements were sluggish, almost deliberate. Something was off.

His thoughts were cut short as a powerful kick slammed into his stomach, sending him crashing into the wall. He fell to one knee, gasping for breath, blood trickling from his mouth.

"Weak."

Mira spat, already advancing toward him again.

'Again, damn, why am I so stupid? Why did have trust this bitch in the first place, and now I've made another wrong decision.'

Uche cursed internally, forcing himself to get up, but just as he rise to his feet, another blow struck—this time, her fist connected with his nose, shattering it with a sickening crunch. Pain exploded in his face, but through the agony, a twisted smile curled his lips.

'I didn't even see her coming...'

He thought grimly,

'But at least I predicted this right.'

As he staggered back, blood poured from his broken nose, but something strange began to happen, not so strange though, as it has already happened countless times. Bloody tendrils began to form, knitting the shattered cartilage and bone back together at an unnatural speed.

Mira smiled, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.

"At least, that is confirmed, you're really a strange one, you're different."

She murmured, her voice almost admiring.

Before she could move, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. Looking down, she saw Uche's fist was connected to her stomach, blood pooling around it.

"Well, that's a surprise."

Mira muttered.

Uche's voice was ice-cold as he twisted the crescent-shaped knife still clenched in his hand, driving it deeper, into her stomach.

"I wasn't going to do this before, but my life is on the line, I don't know what you're after, I don't know your goal and your reason for saving me, and frankly, I don't care anymore. Whatever it is you're looking for, find it in hell."

With that, he twisted the knife again, the blade slicing through her organs with surgical precision.