After half an hour of nonstop driving, Gabriel and Ethan finally pulled up in front of the morgue.
Gabriel stepped out of the car with almost military precision, while Ethan hopped out and slammed the door shut.
Gabriel slowly turned toward him, his voice icy:
" Is this your mother's car for you to treat it like that?"
Ethan blinked a few times before stammering:
"S-sorry… I'll be more careful next time, I promise."
"Good," Gabriel replied flatly.
A sharp night wind slapped their faces as they stepped inside. The smell of disinfectant mixed with cold metal hung in the air. They walked down gleaming white corridors, signed in at the front desk, then headed to the locker room. After slipping into their scrubs and pulling on gloves, they entered the autopsy suite, where the old man's body lay on the stainless-steel table beneath the harsh light.
Ethan began snapping photos of the body before the autopsy could start, while Gabriel picked up his sharp scalpel, the metal gleaming strangely as it caught his reflection.
Ethan started jotting down notes as Gabriel spoke:
"Seven random stab wounds to the chest… looks like the killer was either panicked or in some kind of frenzy."
"What else, Doctor?" Ethan asked.
Gabriel replied, "There are signs of resistance; scratches on the victim's arm. We might find traces of the killer's dead skin cells under her nails from the struggle."
Ethan nodded, writing each detail into the report, then asked,
"So, how long would you estimate the time of death, Dr. Krauss?"
Without lifting his eyes from the body, Gabriel answered,
"Rigor mortis has already begun to fade, and the skin shows discoloration with purplish patches from pooled blood. That puts this body at over twenty-four hours."
Ethan nodded in agreement, set the notebook aside, and said from behind his mask:
"Alright, should I start drawing out what's left of the eye fluid so we can pin down the time of death more accurately?"
Gabriel: "Of course."
Ethan stepped toward the steel table, positioned a syringe with a fine needle at the corner of the eye, and slowly withdrew the vitreous humor, careful not to tear the tissue.
He removed the sample without damaging the eye, which made Gabriel smile faintly as he examined the seven stab wounds, determining which one had been fatal.
Gabriel couldn't help but praise him, saying proudly:
"Impressive… better than last time, when you stuck the needle too deep and mangled the eye."
Ethan gave a sheepish smile at Gabriel's compliment, thanked him, and went off to analyze the vitreous humor for a more precise estimate of the time of death.
After several long minutes, Ethan returned with the lab results and an estimate of the time of death. Dr. Gabriel had already finished examining the stab wounds in detail and had written down his notes for the report.
Ethan set the analysis results aside, picked up Gabriel's notes, and began to read:
• Seven random stab wounds in the chest area.
• The first wound: a penetrating injury about three centimeters long in the upper left portion of the chest; it pierced the left lung but was not fatal by itself.
• The second wound: located near the center of the sternum, it penetrated the left ventricle of the heart, causing massive internal bleeding in the thoracic cavity—likely the fatal stab. The trajectory was mostly vertical with a slight tilt to the left.
• The third wound: a penetrating injury on the right side of the chest, of moderate depth, stopping within the chest wall muscles without reaching any vital organs.
• The remaining four wounds were superficial, affecting only the muscles without touching internal organs, and were likely inflicted in the first moments of the victim's resistance.
Ethan set the notebook down and glanced around for Gabriel, but the place was empty.
He let out a long sigh, then stood beside the body, its chest opened by the autopsy, organs gleaming under the harsh artificial light.
Ethan slid his hand into the victim's chest, slowly lifted out the heart, then dropped to one knee in an overly dramatic pose and said:
"Oh, my imaginary dream girl, would you accept my heart?"
He stayed silent for two seconds before bursting out laughing at himself. He stood, tossed the mangled heart into the air, caught it with ease, and muttered with mock seriousness:
"Oh, wait — that's not my heart!" *laughs*
Shrugging carelessly "And I don't even have a specific dream girl in mind, so… everybody wins."
"So, is this your new way of writing romantic reports?"
AAHH!"
Ethan yelped, tossing the heart back into the corpse's chest — but it was too late.
He turned and saw Gabriel calmly peeling off his gloves and dropping them into the bin by his left foot.
Ethan gave a nervous smile, desperately trying not to look at the body — and, of course, failing.
Gabriel chuckled softly, looked at him, and said in a quiet tone:
"You'd make a great actor if you ever played a role in one of Shakespeare's plays."
Ethan scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, then suddenly remembered he still hadn't removed his gloves, which were, quite literally, smeared with the victim's blood.
"Oh, come on!" he groaned, stomping toward the stainless-steel sink to wash the blood out of his hair.
Gabriel tried to stifle his laughter but failed miserably, bursting out as Ethan — hair dripping — shot him a mock-annoyed look and said:
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Glad to know I'm your personal source of entertainment, Doctor."
Gabriel (laughing):
"HA! You sure are, Ethan."
Ethan (while drying his hair):
"Right, here are the lab results along with your notes."
Gabriel's laughter faded as he turned toward the report. It stated that the body's time of death was estimated at roughly thirty-six hours.
Smiling, Gabriel stepped closer to Ethan, giving him an approving pat on the back.
"Good work. Now all that's left is…"
He paused, then began carefully swabbing beneath the victim's nails, collecting the sloughed-off skin left from the struggle.
"…to run this sample and see if our killer has a criminal record."
Ethan smiled at him, then leaned in as if sharing a secret only the two of them could understand.
"we'll finally deal with what we left in the fridge…"
Gabriel's smile widened at Ethan's words, surprise flickering across his face.
"I thought you didn't care for that sort of meal," he said, amused.
Ethan shrugged casually. "Yeah, you're right. But I don't mind chopping it up with you — just to save some time. Besides, our stash is running low; we need to refill it."
Gabriel shook his head with an indulgent smile. Together they headed down the hallway to deliver the trace they'd collected from beneath the victim's nails, leaving the rest to the investigators.
Half an hour later, the two of them stepped out of the building. They climbed into the car, and Gabriel turned the key, the engine humming to life as he drove them back toward his estate — ready to finish his work and prepare dinner just the way he liked it.
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