Chapter Eighteen: After the Confession
"A confession doesn't end guilt…
it only changes its form."
— Eliza Morgan
London grew calm.
The newspapers declared:
"Imitator Killer Arrested"
"The End of the Ripper's Nightmare"
People returned to their lives.
Cafés filled again.
Laughter returned… cautiously.
Edgar read the headlines calmly.
They think the story is over…
stories don't end, they only change narrators.
Three days passed,
and Eliza wrote nothing.
She sat at her desk,
the pen between her fingers,
but the words didn't come.
When I was writing about him,
I understood myself.
Now…
who am I writing about?
She suddenly realized the truth:
The danger was never Edgar…
it was getting used to standing so close to the dark.
Edgar reappeared.
A literary lecture.
Book signings.
Questions about "evil in literature."
He told someone:
"The worst criminals aren't those who kill…
but those who teach others how to justify it."
The audience laughed.
But Eliza, standing in the back, didn't.
He's hiding in the light now.
Howard wasn't sleeping well.
Every time he closed his eyes,
he saw the theater.
Three people.
Three truths.
And no complete justice.
He told his colleague:
"The most dangerous cases…
are the ones that get closed without being solved."
A doubt grew inside him:
Did arresting the imitator end something…
or open another door?
A week later,
Eliza received a message.
No name.
No signature.
A single sheet of paper, reading:
"You are silent now…
and that is good.
Silence is the final stage of understanding."
She froze.
This wasn't the imitator.
The style was different.
Deeper.
Calmer.
Edgar never left the game.
She confronted him after the lecture.
She said:
"Stop."
He looked at her with genuine curiosity.
"Stop what?"
"Stop addressing me…
stop making me part of your thinking."
He smiled.
"You left a long time ago.
But traces…
don't disappear easily."
Then he said softly:
"Don't be afraid.
I don't kill anymore."
She paused.
"Is that a promise?"
"No…
it's a description."
That night,
Eliza understood what truly hurt:
The danger isn't that he might kill again.
The danger is that he no longer needs to.
He closed his notebook.
Organized his thoughts.
Became more controlled.
A monster that learns
is more dangerous than a hungry one.
Howard visited Eliza.
He asked:
"Why do I feel like the worst hasn't happened yet?"
She answered honestly:
"Because we stopped the knife…
not the mind."
He looked at her for a long moment.
"If he returns…
I won't be forgiving."
She said calmly:
"If he returns…
he won't be obvious."