The wheels of the cab rolled through rain-polished streets, Chicago's skyline flickering in the distance like a necklace of cold fire. It was well past midnight, the air outside soaked in a hush broken only by the occasional hiss of tires on wet asphalt.
Yuna sat with her chin resting against the window, eyes tracing the ghostly shapes of buildings passing by. Beside her, Nari leaned forward, reading the cab's GPS as if memorizing the streets. The heater breathed dry warmth into the space, but the glass still fogged with their breath.
The cab slowed in front of an old brick townhouse with a wrought-iron fence and ivy climbing the walls. A warm square of light glowed from a second-story window.
The front door opened before they could knock.
"Yuna!"
Her aunt stepped into the porch light, her hair streaked silver, eyes carrying the softness of someone who'd been waiting all evening. She pulled Yuna into an embrace that smelled faintly of sandalwood and ginger tea.
"You've grown thinner," her aunt murmured, cupping her face. "You work too much."
Yuna forced a small smile. "I eat enough."
Inside, the house was alive with a gentle warmth — the hum of the radiator, the quiet crackle from a candle burning on the coffee table. The air was laced with the scent of fried scallion pancakes cooling on a plate.
Nari and her aunt chatted easily — about the flight, about bailin winters while Yuna let herself sink into the couch, her travel worn body soaking in the calm.
Then her second phone — the one she never left in sight — vibrated.
The name flashing on the screen made her chest tighten: Unknown Delivery Facility.
She stood quickly. "Excuse me," she said, slipping toward the hallway. Her voice shifted the moment she answered.
"This is… Deniz."
A man's voice came through, deep, formal. "Ma'am, you placed an order scheduled for delivery in Qilin District. The address is incomplete. Could you guide us to the exact location?"
Yuna's heart skipped. Qilin District.
Only Nari knew about that place.
She lowered her voice. "The house is at the far end of Baihe Street. The gate's painted red. Who signed for this order?"
Silence. Then the man thanked her and hung up.
When she returned to the living room, her aunt's chair was empty. Nari was alone on the couch, scrolling her phone. She looked up.
"What happened?"
Yuna's voice was tight. "How could you give my number and the Qilin address to a delivery company?"
Nari frowned. "What? I didn't order anything. I don't even know their number."
The weight of her words hung in the air. The reality settled cold in Yuna's stomach someone else knew the location now.
Half a world away, rain whispered against the high windows of the Bailin City Investigation Department.
"Liang," Jasper's voice broke the hush, "did we get the location?"
Liang tapped the table map with a pen. "Yes. Qilin District. I checked Deniz's last trace there wasn't confirmed. Then her mobile went dead. Now we've got a ping in Chicago."
Jasper leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "And the call?"
"We posed as a delivery facility. She gave the Qilin address herself."
"Good," Jasper said. His tone wasn't satisfaction it was calculation. "Let's move."
The road to Qilin was a black ribbon through the countryside, the car's headlights cutting narrow tunnels through the dark. Old trees leaned over the road, their branches like skeletal hands, casting restless shadows across the windshield.
"This place…" Liang murmured, looking out at the empty stretches of land. "It swallows sound."
Jasper didn't reply. His gaze stayed on the road ahead, the outline of a locked gate just beginning to form in the mist.
They stopped. The gate was rusted, chained, and overgrown with ivy. No lights inside.
"Locked," Liang noted.
Jasper moved without hesitation, crossing the low stone wall with a quiet leap. Liang followed.
The mansion loomed like a relic from another century—its windows blind, its walls veined with ivy and time. Inside, the air was stale, carrying the faint scent of dust and something floral, long dead. They searched in silence, their footsteps echoing against high ceilings.
In a dim parlour, Jasper's eyes caught on a photograph lying on a small table. Two young women one with a half-smile, the other with eyes too knowing stood shoulder to shoulder. Nari. And the girl from Chicago.
He knew that face.
Liang stepped in from the hall, a cardboard box in his hands. "This was at the back door."
Jasper opened it. Inside lay a single black flower, its petals absorbing the light.
The room seemed to grow colder.
As Jasper stood in the dimly lit, aging mansion, his fingers brushed against the edges of the black flower — a symbol now etched deeply into the case. His heart quickened. There was something hidden beneath the surface of these murders, something that was starting to make sense in a terrifying way.
His mind raced. He didn't need to examine the surroundings further. He turned to Liang, his face hardening as the pieces clicked together.
"We need to go back to the department," Jasper said, his voice cold, already heading toward the exit.
Liang, still holding the flower, nodded and followed him out into the dark night. The chill of the wind bit into their skin as they got into the car. The city streets blurred in their rush to the Crime Investigation Department.
CRIME INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT – NIGHT
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly above the rows of desks. Papers, files, and photographs cluttered the space. Jasper and Liang made their way into the forensics room, where the crime board stood with the photos of the three victims pinned with red string, meticulously arranged in a haunting web.
Jasper's gaze shifted to the board again as his mind rewound through everything he had just uncovered. The flowers, the strange mark on each of the women's foreheads, the connection between their deaths. Something wasn't quite right.
He sat down at the desk and began scanning the files again. "We need to look at these pictures again, Liang. Really look at them."
Liang, his face tense, walked over and stood beside him. He clicked through the photos on the computer, each one displaying the three women: Mei Lin, Zhai Yu, and Rong Hui. The red string that connected their lives in death became even clearer as Jasper's gaze shifted across the board.
The first two photos — Mei Lin and Zhai Yu — were both holding flowers. Mei Lin's hand gripped the flower firmly, clearly visible, almost as if it was an offering or a symbol. The second, Zhai Yu, held hers delicately, tucked beneath her body in a position that was hidden from view at first glance.
Jasper's eyes narrowed. "The flower... It's the same. Both of them."
Liang paused for a moment, watching Jasper's expression shift. "So what does that mean?"
Jasper didn't answer immediately. His mind was working faster now, piecing together the puzzle. He looked at the third photo. Rong Hui. Her hand, unlike the others, was empty. She wasn't holding any flower at all.
Jasper leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. The pieces were starting to align.
"Rong Hui…" he murmured. "She was married. And she doesn't have the flower."
He turned to Liang, his eyes intense. "The others were unmarried. They held flowers. But she didn't."
Liang's brows furrowed. "But why does it matter? What's the connection?"
Jasper's voice was steady, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "The flower is a symbol. It's part of the ritual. A marker. The women who held flowers… they were chosen. But Rong Hui she didn't hold one. It's as if she wasn't part of the ritual."
He paused, the weight of his words settling in the room.
"Mei Lin and Zhai Yu were innocent targets. They were chosen for something greater, something ceremonial. But Rong Hui…" Jasper's eyes locked onto Liang's, his expression hardening with realization. "Rong Hui is different. The danger that came for the others is still coming. But she might be next. And she's the one who's been left out."
Jasper stood up suddenly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His fingers clenched into fists as he stared at the board, his face darkening.
"The girl's in danger," he said softly, the words a warning — a prediction. "She's still a part of this. But she's missing the symbol, the marker."
Liang's face paled slightly, his voice cautious. "But… how do we stop this?"
Jasper turned to him, his expression grim. "We find her before it's too late."
The clock ticked on in the silent room, and with that, the hunt for the next victim — the one who had been left out of the ritual — began.