S.C.I. (Volume I) - Case 4: Chapter 3

The Non-Human Killer 03 - Provocation  

The teenage boy sitting on the hallway railing tilted his head, watching Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang below with a hint of curiosity.

Zhan Zhao gave a slight nod toward Bai Yutang, and Bai Yutang turned and walked toward the stairs.

The boy's gaze followed his movement. At that moment, Zhan Zhao suddenly let out a cough.

The boy turned his head back, fixing his attention on Zhan Zhao once more.

He saw Zhan Zhao stretch out a hand toward him, spreading out all five fingers.

The boy looked slightly perplexed. Zhan Zhao then extended his other hand, likewise opening his five fingers toward him.

Seemingly captivated by Zhan Zhao's actions, the boy stared at him in confusion.

Just then, Zhan Zhao suddenly pulled his fingers back, curling them into fists.

The boy paused slightly as he watched this gesture, then furrowed his brows, looking somewhat displeased.

Zhan Zhao slowly retracted his hands, raising them up to eye level. He first looked up at the boy, raised an eyebrow gently to draw the boy's line of sight toward his own hands, and then glanced back at the boy's hands. Following his movement, the boy slowly lowered his head to gaze at his own fingers.

He saw that his own hands were gripping the knife and the puppy's head, his five fingers tightly clenched.

He raised his head in some perplexity... only to find Zhan Zhao smiling right at him, and then slowly opening his hands wide...

The boy stared at Zhan Zhao's movements as if spellbound, slowly loosening his own grip and intently focusing on the five open fingers...

The items in his hands fell away as his fingers uncurled... With a crisp clink, the sound of the knife making contact with the marble floor was sharp and clear.

Startled awake by the sound, the boy snapped his head up to look at Zhan Zhao. In that exact fraction of a second, Zhan Zhao raised his hand, flicked it toward the space directly above the boy, and made a motion resembling a toss, softly calling out, "Catch!"

The boy's line of sight elevated following the sweep of Zhan Zhao's hand, lifting higher and higher as he tried to find the "object" just thrown.

Because he was sitting on an extremely narrow iron railing, he jerked his head backward—and his body instantly lost its balance, tipping backward toward the corridor behind him. Bai Yutang, who had already slipped behind him unnoticed, reached out and effortlessly caught him, pulling him back into an embrace and lifting him down.

"Ah—" The boy was taken down from the railing and suddenly began screaming, struggling and kicking incessantly like a frightened little beast.

Bai Yutang held him in his arms, not daring to use too much force for fear of hurting the child, and could only support him while letting him kick and flail. He turned his head to ask Zhan Zhao downstairs, "Cat'er, what's wrong with him?!"

"Little Bai, hold on like this for a bit!" Zhan Zhao shouted upward, then asked the maid crouching to one side, "How can we get him to calm down?!"

"Ah..." The maid was at a loss, stammering for a long time before saying, "Hold... hold him, pat his back... he'll be fine in a moment..."

Bai Yutang heard this, and before he even had time to react, the child in his arms suddenly stopped struggling, perhaps out of sheer exhaustion...

Gently placing him down onto the floor...

The boy abruptly turned and threw himself into Bai Yutang's embrace, burying his head.

Gently patting his shoulder by way of brief comfort... Bai Yutang looked up at Zhan Zhao walking up the stairs. "Cat'er..."

Zhan Zhao shook his head with a furrowed brow. "He is very sick."

Before long, the boy grew quiet, sitting blankly at the dining table and eating the pastries served by the maid.

Zhan Zhao asked, "What is his name?"

The maid named Anna spoke in less-than-fluent Chinese, "His name... is Jiemili."

Zhan Zhao turned his head to look at the boy again and found that he seemed to react to his own name. Letting out a sigh of relief, the situation was somewhat better than expected.

According to Anna, Carlos's wife had passed away half a year ago, and then one day Jiemili suddenly became abnormal. Sometimes he would use a knife to kill small animals and then dismember them—or throw huge tantrums just like he did a moment ago. Even after returning to normal, he remained listless and blank.

Regarding Carlos's death, Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang didn't say much, because Lu Fang would soon arrange for specialists to come, inform them of the case details, and contact Carlos's other relatives overseas.

Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang went upstairs together to Carlos's study to search for relevant clues.

After walking a circle around the study, Bai Yutang frowned. "Cat'er, don't you feel like something is missing?!"

"Mhm," Zhan Zhao nodded. "Photos."

"That's right." Bai Yutang looked at the lavish oil paintings hanging on the room's walls, and the exquisite handicrafts displayed on the desks and in the cabinets. "If he truly loved his wife, she hasn't even been gone for half a year... yet there isn't a single photograph of her in the room."

Zhan Zhao suddenly walked out of the study, entered Jiemili's bedroom, and surveyed it thoroughly. "He hasn't received treatment, nor is he taking any medication."

The two of them left Jiemili's room and returned to the study.

"I feel..." Bai Yutang rubbed his chin, "Carlos didn't seem to care much for his child."

"Mhm, and that really doesn't look much like a child's room—not a single toy, not a single poster..." At this point, Zhan Zhao suddenly froze.

Bai Yutang smiled and leaned in close. "Cat'er, what's wrong? Thinking of something?"

"...No," Zhan Zhao's face flushed slightly red again. "Nothing."

"Ah," Bai Yutang lightly patted his own forehead. "I remember now—I remember your room was full of toys when you were a kid, along with posters and a huge roly-poly toy. Your dad bought all of those, right?"

Zhan Zhao glanced sideways at him and muttered quietly, "...He just dropped them off and left..."

Bai Yutang burst out laughing. "Did you expect a grown man to say, 'Baby, Daddy bought you some toys'? Besides, your old man is so cool..."

Zhan Zhao had nothing to say. Seeing that smug white rat smiling so triumphantly, he raised his foot and stepped hard on his foot... After delivering the step, he left the wincing, teeth-hissing Bai Yutang behind and turned to look at the documents on the study desk.

Bai Yutang stood behind Zhan Zhao, watching as the shoulders of the person in front of him, which had been tightly tensed for days, slowly relaxed. The whole person seemed to ease up as well, a relieved, faint smile appearing on his face—and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The psychological gloom had dissipated a great deal thanks to Bai Yutang's reminder, and Zhan Zhao felt a wave of warmth slowly well up. Perhaps there were still many things he didn't know; he should look at the brighter side and not let suspicion and distrust cloud his own eyes.

Calming their minds, the two of them earnestly flipped through the documents on the desk. Soon, a stack of photographs caught their attention.

"Cat'er, what are these?" Bai Yutang picked up one of them and saw that the lighting and shadows were hazy, closely resembling snapshot photography. Everything in the lens was blurred except for a pair of eyes that were exceptionally clear—and the look of terror within those eyes made one feel a chill run down their spine.

There were over a dozen such photographs, with all sorts of different eyes, yet the expression of terror in each was identical.

Beneath the photographs lay a brand-new photography magazine.

Zhan Zhao picked it up and flipped through it, quickly finding an article and pointing it out for Bai Yutang to see. "Little Bai, look here! These photos are photographer Tanaka's representative works."

"Tanaka?" Bai Yutang thought for a moment. "The one who was in the lounge this morning?!"

Zhan Zhao nodded. "He seems to be quite famous."

Setting the photos aside, Bai Yutang shook his head. "He might as well go shoot horror films. I really have no idea what he showed his models to make them display that kind of look..."

"Let's take these back with us." Zhan Zhao placed the photos together with the magazine into a file folder and packed them away. The two searched once more and, finding no other special clues, turned and departed.

Hurrying all the way back to S.C.I., eager to know the autopsy results, the two walked into the office—how was it that not a single person was there?

At that moment, a cry of astonishment echoed from the neighboring forensic laboratory.

The two exchanged glances and shook their heads helplessly—these guys...

Rushing swiftly into the lab, they saw that every single member of S.C.I., whether administrative or field personnel, was swarming around the dissection table.

Even Bai Chi was in the crowd, though his face was pale and his hands were tightly clutching the hem of his own shirt.

"What are you all doing?" Bai Yutang asked.

"Head..." Everyone turned around to look at Bai Yutang.

Gongsun jutted his chin toward the dissection table.

Only then did the two notice that Gongsun had already taken the corpse out. What was even stranger was that the corpse maintained its square shape, and—no matter how one looked at it, it felt off...

"How can this be?" Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao asked in unison.

Gongsun let out a sigh. "Only the head belongs to Carlos..."

"What?" Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao exchanged a look and stepped closer to the dissection table.

Gongsun reached out with a bit of force and removed the corpse's head along with the skin of the shoulders. They saw that on the square, twisted corpse, the original head area had been gouged out into a large hole, and—though it looked very convincing, the corpse itself was fake!

"We were fooled just now by that layer of skin, blood, and the folded clothing..." Gongsun wore a look of utter frustration.

Zhan Zhao stared at the corpse for a moment. "Meaning... this isn't any curse at all..."

"He used a sleight-of-hand illusion... to manufacture a cursed incident?" Bai Yutang lowered his head in contemplation. "Why..."

Right at that moment, with a loud bang, the door was pushed open violently. Lu Fang walked in with a livid complexion and a stern expression, saying, "There's something you guys had better take a look at!"

The group was startled and quickly followed Lu Fang out.

Back in the office, Lu Fang turned on the television to broadcast a special program.

"This is a live broadcast," Lu Fang said. "The location is right at the museum."

A female anchor could be seen excitedly narrating the case that occurred this morning... The surveillance footage inside that special exhibition room had captured the entire process, from Carlos bringing the safe in this morning until everyone entered and opened the box. What was even more coincidental was that even Carlos's face inside the box was captured with absolute clarity...

The female anchor chattered on about the ancient Tusi civilization and curses! Finally, she mentioned that a guest had been invited—and immediately, Akasha appeared on screen, crying out in a weird, mocking tone, "It's a curse... a curse..."

Switching off the television, Lu Fang furrowed his brows. "You all saw it?!"

"Why did the surveillance footage leak?" Ma Han and Zhao Hu, who had gone to check the footage earlier, asked in utter puzzlement.

Zhao Hu produced a disc. "When I brought it back, I clearly told the administrator not to let it leak..."

"There's another video!" Lu Fang sighed and inserted a disc into the DVD player. It was a news video segment.

A sharp, capable-looking man in his thirties was being interviewed.

"His name is Shang Luo!" Lu Fang stated. "He's the organizer of this event and also the owner of the 'Falcon Security Company' responsible for the security work of this exhibition."

"Shang Luo?!" Bai Yutang frowned. "This kid's background is far from clean."

"That's right!" Lu Fang nodded. "Both the Narcotics Division and the Economic Crimes Division have listed him as a top-tier troublemaker!"

Shang Luo was seen facing the camera with complete composure. Pointing to the fake corpse box in the center of the exhibition hall, he said, "Everyone doesn't need to worry—in fact, this one right here is the real corpse box!"

"What?!" Everyone present was struck dumb with astonishment.

On the screen, Shang Luo smiled triumphantly. "Actually, the safe Mr. Carlos moved into the special exhibition room this morning was empty... Because a lot of unfortunate things have happened in Mr. Carlos's family recently, he suspected that a curse was at work—so he specifically made this arrangement, though I never expected it would end in such a tragedy."

"Then how will this real corpse box be handled?" the female anchor immediately pressed. "I heard you've already bought it for a high price... Aren't you afraid of the curse?!"

"Haha," Shang Luo smiled gracefully, speaking into the camera, "I believe in ancient civilizations, but I believe in modern science even more... As far as I know, this case has already been handed over to S.C.I. to handle. Since even major cases like the magical murderer can be solved effortlessly... I believe the elite division of the police force will soon give me an answer to let collectors and researchers like us rest easy—is the murderer, after all, human?"

With that, Shang Luo smiled and turned to leave. The female anchor was still excitedly reporting on the live situation because, due to the morning's case, the number of visitors coming to view the museum had instantly multiplied several-fold—and even more people were offering exorbitant prices to purchase the corpse box and items related to the Tusi tribe.

Pressing the remote control, Lu Fang took a deep breath. "The police station's phones are about to be blown up..."

Zhao Hu kicked a chair beside him away in anger. "Damn it, this punk is intentionally picking a fight!"

"Huzi," Ma Han pulled the rampaging Zhao Hu back. "Calm down."

In truth, it wasn't just Zhao Hu; everyone else was furious as well.

"I can stall for a little while," Lu Fang said. "However, the media attention is simply too high... The pressure on you guys this time is immense..." As he spoke, his phone suddenly rang. He answered it, and his expression instantly changed as he hurriedly switched the television back on.

The screen showed they were back at the museum. The scene had already descended into complete chaos; cameras shook as they pushed their way inward while the crowd screamed and fled outward.

The camera lens cut across the corridor and arrived at the lounge from earlier.

Lying flat on his back on the lounge sofa was a man, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the camera—it was none other than the photographer Tanaka.

Morris was shouting frantically, "Call the police, call an ambulance!"

Akasha's whereabouts were unknown—she wasn't captured in the camera frame, but her voice could still be heard shouting at the top of her lungs, "It's a curse... a curse..."

Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang stared fixedly at the television screen, utterly speechless. Not for any other reason, but because Tanaka's expression in death—was an exact match to the photograph they had just found at Carlos's house, the one he had shot of himself: a gaze filled with extraordinary, spine-chilling terror.