Although the way the woman had vanished was mysterious, James Aron didn't care in the slightest. His gaze was fixed only on the license plate number etched into the surface of the table. Perhaps his soul as a lawyer had not yet completely faded.
Slowly, Aron pulled his phone from his pocket. His fingers scrolled across the screen, searching for a name he had saved. A few moments later, he pressed the dial button and activated the speaker.
The ringtone echoed through the quiet apartment.
"Hello?"
"Hey… Gordon. It's me, Aron."
"Oh, right. Aron. Is something wrong?" Gordon's voice was cautious.
"I need your help," Aron said without hesitation.
"What kind of help?"
"Can you check the registered address of a car?"
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"Give me the license plate number."
"HLD-2609. But I'm not sure what type of car it is," Aron replied.
"That's fine. I'll check it. Once I get the info, I'll message you."
"Thanks a lot, Gordon."
"You're welcome."
The call ended. Aron slowly lowered the phone and let out a long breath, as if releasing an invisible weight.
"Let's see… if what that woman said is true or not," he murmured quietly, taking a sip from the drink in his hand.
Hours passed unnoticed.
Aron had fallen asleep on the sofa, his body turned slightly to the left. The living room was dimly lit by the soft glow spilling from the kitchen, casting long shadows across the floor. The air was still, interrupted only by the rhythm of his breathing.
That was when a pair of feet emerged from the darkness.
Her steps were slow, nearly silent, approaching the sofa where Aron lay. Victoria stood behind him, her eyes sharp, studying the back of his neck. The heartbeat she sensed—one that shouldn't even exist—was faint but detectable to her vampire senses. Her lips curved slightly, and her fangs lengthened uncontrollably.
She lowered herself gently, positioning herself directly behind Aron's head.
"I want to see… if you're still alive tomorrow," she whispered.
Victoria opened her mouth and sank both fangs into the right side of Aron's neck.
Blood flowed.
Warm. Thick. Perfectly rich.
She drank, losing track of time. Each drop felt like fire igniting inside her—so exquisite, so intoxicating. Her pupils widened, her eyes turning fully white. Her breath came in harsh, uncontrolled gasps.
"Arghh…" she stifled a cry, more a strangled moan than a scream.
Aron's blood was too delicious. Too difficult to let go.
With great effort, Victoria finally withdrew her fangs from his neck. Her lips were stained with blood. She lifted her finger, touched her lips, and slowly licked the remaining red residue.
"Delicious…" she murmured, her voice heavy with dangerous satisfaction. "Truly delicious."
Victoria rose to her feet.
Unnoticed by her, her pale, cold skin began to change—little by little, life crept back into her face, as if she were human again.
She watched Aron for a moment longer before vanishing entirely, as if she had never been there at all.
Aron continued to sleep soundly. His body did not move at all until the morning sunlight spilled into the living room, filtering through the gaps in the curtains that weren't fully drawn.
Tring… tring…
Tring… tring…
The shrill sound of his phone broke the silence.
Aron groaned softly, stirred from his heavy sleep. He turned over, fumbling beneath the sofa until he found his phone. With blurry eyes, he rose, still half-awake.
Before he could even look at the screen, a tickle ran along the right side of his neck. He scratched it without thinking. No pain, no mark—Victoria's bite from the night before had completely vanished, as if it had never existed.
Finally, he focused on the screen.
A new message had arrived.
**[HLD-2609 – Toyota Prius. Owner's address: **]
The message was sent by Officer Gordon.
Aron's eyes flicked to the clock displayed on his phone.
"Ten o'clock?" he murmured softly.
A thin smile traced his lips. He got up from the sofa, reaching into the right pocket of his pants to pull out the business card he had received the night before.
"The owner of a car workshop… impressive," he whispered, studying the handwriting on the card.
Without hesitation, Aron dialed the number on the card.
The call was answered almost immediately.
"Hello."
"Hello. Nilson? This is James Aron."
"Oh—Mr. James. So, have you agreed to help my brother?" The voice on the other end sounded anxious.
"Are you free now?" Aron asked, going straight to the point.
"Yes, I'm free."
"Do you have a car?"
"Of course I do. I run a car workshop," Nilson replied, slightly puzzled.
"Good. Then come to my place. We need to go to a location."
No further questions.
"All right. I'll come now."
"Okay. See you soon."
The call ended.
Aron didn't waste a moment. He immediately headed to his bedroom to get ready.
**
At 10:30 a.m., James Aron descended the stairs, clad in a black suit that fit him perfectly. His hair was neatly combed, his face clean, showing none of the fatigue from the previous night. For the first time in a week, he genuinely looked like a lawyer.
Outside his apartment building, Nilson was waiting in a gray Ford Mustang. As soon as he saw Aron step out, Nilson honked briefly as a signal.
Aron quickened his pace, opened the car door, and slid inside.
"We're going to Koreatown," Aron said curtly.
Nilson didn't ask any questions. He pressed the accelerator, and the car immediately left the apartment complex.
"Tell me," Aron said, opening his small notebook, "when was your brother arrested?"
"Two days ago. Eight in the morning. At home," Nilson replied. "My brother is a doctor."
Aron paused for a moment, then turned to him. "A doctor?"
Nilson nodded.
"Do you know what time the assault happened?"
"Twelve thirty at night. In an outdoor parking lot near a pub," Nilson answered. "But at that time, my brother and I were at a restaurant near the pub."
"You both took this car?"
"No. Another car."
Aron made a note. "What time did you leave the restaurant?"
"Around one in the morning. My car was parked a bit far, so we had to walk through the pub's parking lot." Nilson's voice trembled slightly. "That's when my brother saw a man lying there. He immediately gave emergency aid until the ambulance arrived."
"And the next morning?" Aron prompted.
"Two detectives came to our house. They accused my brother of assaulting the man."
"You were with him at the time."
"Yes. I already told them." Nilson gripped the steering wheel tightly. "But they didn't care at all. I hired two… three lawyers. They all withdrew for no reason."
Aron raised an eyebrow. "The restaurant staff? They must remember what time you left."
Nilson shook his head slowly. "No. They all said they didn't remember us at all. When I asked about the CCTV…" He let out a bitter laugh. "That night, they said the CCTV was broken."
Aron's pen stopped moving.
"So then, where did the CCTV footage showing your brother hitting that man come from?"
"Actually, there is CCTV in the parking lot, but the footage isn't very clear. The weirder part is, there's no footage of my brother helping the man at all. I even tried asking the two staff members who manage the pub entrance, but I was the one who got scolded," Nilson replied, continuing.
"My brother is a good person," Nilson's voice trembled slightly. "He's never fought with anyone. Besides, he's a doctor."
Aron nodded in understanding. "Do you remember the names of the two detectives handling the case?"
"Detective Ronald and Jordyn."
"Who suggested you contact me?" Aron asked further.
"Just a regular police officer. But I don't know his name."
Aron nodded slightly. "For now, don't worry too much," he said calmly.
Nilson drove steadily through the busy streets toward Koreatown. After nearly half an hour, they arrived in front of a row of commercial buildings.
"Wait here," Aron said before opening the door and stepping out.
Aron walked along the sidewalk, glancing at the parked cars and checking his phone screen. His steps stopped in front of a Toyota Prius.
"HLD-2609," he murmured quietly.
His gaze shifted to a nearby barbecue restaurant. He walked toward it and pushed the door open. Inside, the place was empty and silent. Aron stepped further in.
Soon after, a Korean woman emerged from the kitchen. Her face clearly showed surprise at Aron's presence.
"The restaurant isn't open yet," she said.
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," Aron said politely. "I came to speak with the owner of the car outside."
"Why?" Her tone was slightly anxious.
"Don't worry. My name is James Aron, a lawyer," Aron introduced himself. "I'm looking for evidence for a case."
"What kind of evidence?"
"Do you know who owns that car?"
"That's my car," the woman replied.
"Can we sit for a moment?" Aron asked gently.
She nodded, and they sat at a table near the counter.
"Actually," Aron began explaining, "two days ago, at twelve-thirty at night, there was an assault in the parking lot in front of a pub. After the incident, the victim was found by my client. But now, my client is being accused as the suspect."
The woman looked confused. "What does this have to do with me?"
"Two nights ago, did you go to any pub?"
She shook her head.
"How about your friends or family—maybe someone used the car?"
The woman furrowed her brow, as if trying to remember something. She then turned toward the kitchen and called out, "Yaa! Joon!"
"What?" came a voice in response.
"Come out for a moment," she said in Korean.
A few moments later, a young man stepped out of the kitchen.
"Why?" he asked, glancing at Aron.
This time, the woman spoke in English. "Two nights ago, around midnight, did you go to any pub?"
The young man hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes. Roy Bean Pub. I work part-time there."
"Where did you park your car?" Aron asked.
"Across the street, in front of the pub building."
"What time did you leave?"
"Around three in the morning. But I moved my sister's car to another spot when I heard there was a fight there. I was just worried about her car."
"What time did you move it?" Aron pressed.
"I think around 1:15 a.m., when the ambulance arrived," he replied.
Aron nodded slowly. "I noticed earlier that your car has a dash cam in front. Is it always active?"
The Korean woman nodded. "Yes."
"How about the memory on the recording?" Aron continued. "Does it get deleted after 24 hours, or is it stored longer?"
"It deletes automatically," the woman answered, "unless there's important footage, like an accident or a collision. That footage gets locked."
Aron exhaled softly.
"Then… can I see the dash cam footage?"