Heavy rain fell on Duskvale shortly after Mocca's evacuation. The rain continued to pour down even after several hours of her being in the hospital. In a room filled with the pungent smell of antiseptic and bright white lights, Mocca sat silently. She was still in a state of shock after what had happened earlier. Her face was pale, her wounds bandaged by the nurse.
Mocca was silent after a few moments of rage, her body limp. Her mind was still unable to think clearly, filled with anger, fear, and severe shock. Everything was mixed together. She felt that the killer was still nearby and would kill her, maybe someday.
A man in his forties stood beside the bed, his eyes staring straight at his daughter with love, slightly swollen from staying awake too long, tired and weary scattered across his face. Guilt dragged him down, losing his daughter from his watch was a mistake for him. He almost lost his loved one again.
"Daddy's here," he said as he stroked Mocca's hair, damp with cold sweat. "You're safe now, sweetheart."
But Mocca didn't answer. Her breathing was heavy. Her gaze pierced through the wall, as if her mind was still in that empty house. She clutched her father's hand tightly, showing that fear still haunted her.
Outside the room, two local police officers stood waiting for the report. "The CCTV in the area of the incident was damaged," said one of them. "Just like the previous case."
"The victim's body was found clean. The bullets had no serial numbers. The gunshot wounds were precise. There were no other witnesses except your daughter," added the other.
Khan stared at the hospital corridor. "She left a witness because she wanted to. It wasn't negligence. It was a message."
★★★
Dawn broke over the horizon of Duskvale. The sky, which had been pitch black, turned a slightly lighter dark blue-gray. The sunlight peeked in little by little, visible from its reflection entering through the window. Khan reentered Mocca's room carrying hot tea and a piece of bread. Mocca slowly opened his eyes, his eyelids heavy with tears and exhaustion.
"Daddy...." his voice was hoarse, almost gone.
"Yes, Daddy is here."
He was silent for a moment. He bowed his head deeply, while his father waited for him to continue.
"I'm sorry, Dad."
Khan sighed, "All right, be careful with your movements next time. I don't know when I'll be able to save you. Yesterday was a close call."
Mocca bit her lip. Her tears fell again.
"He said something, Dad. He said I shouldn't have seen."
Khan held her hand. "You're safe, dear. That's what matters."
"He's not an ordinary person, is he?"
"No." Khan stared out the window at the fog creeping slowly behind the glass. "People here call him Mr. B. But we, the police, know him as B. DeVelle."
"Then what if I'm the next target, Dad? What if he kills me? What if he terrorizes me? What then, Dad?" Mocca asked excitedly while sobbing. Fear was clearly visible on her face, and it was the same fear that Khan felt.
"Calm down, Dad will make sure he gets caught and pays dearly for what he has done to Dad's little girl," said Khan, hugging his daughter affectionately.
A few hours after sunrise, the hospital began to get busy. Khan signed the documents, then pushed the wheelchair Mocca was sitting in. She was not yet able to walk fully.
In the hallway, Mocca stopped. Her eyes were fixed on the marble wall next to the linen storage room. There was a small circular scratch, faint but very familiar. It was not just a regular scratch—it was a pattern. One circle, two lines inside it. Like eyes watching. Mocca tensed. Khan pushed her again. "Come on. Let's go home."
"Is this our home now?"
Khan answered softly, as if talking to himself
"Yes. Today... Duskvale is our home."