“The knife belongs to me.” Detective Herim stepped out from the shadows, dislodging the blade from the fresh corpse and staring me in the eyes as he wiped the fresh blood from the metal with a white handkerchief.

“Detective…?” I rose from my squatted position beside the body, fists clenched. “You were the one who killed my brother?!”

Herim smirked. “Now, now. Remember the rule: friends and family don’t change a thing when investigating cases.”

“I trusted you!” My once calmness rose into complete rage. A detective, deceiving others into thinking they were solving a case, only for them to have committed the murder and only covered their trails using fake evidence. “How could you?”

“It was only necessary.” The detective shrugged.

A gun found its way into my hand from my pocket and I pointed it to his forehead. “Why?!”

“Stop asking ridiculous questions. You are merely wasting time when you could do more useful things with your life, like killing me.” He gestured to himself with unnecessary flair.

I hesitated, slightly lowering my gun. Why did I hesitate?! I could have killed the man who murdered my Brother, but they would believe him over me, they always did. That’s when Herim struck, disarming me and punching me square in the nose. Something cracked. Blood oozed down my face.

Retaliating, I kicked his knee, dodging another punch to the head and returning the same attack, only to be blocked by a hand’s firm grip on my wrist. It wasn’t his.

I turned to look for the source of the hand, struggling to free myself. Before I could see their face, I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head. I crashed to the floor, ears ringing, gaze flickering.

**Black.**