The sharp sting of disinfectant mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood assaulted Suga the moment he stepped inside. The room was cold, not just from the AC, but a bone-chilling cold that pierced the bone, the cold of death.
His pupils darted wildly, sweeping across the sterile room before finally locking onto the metal slab in the center. There lay something stiff that could only be recognized as human by its basic shape. It was no longer whole. Damp tarpaulins covered parts of it, but what was visible was enough to make his stomach churn and his knees tremble. His brother.
"Brother...?" he called out, his voice more like a choked gasp of air than a whisper.
The brother who had always been his protector when things got chaotic at home. The brother who held him back when he wanted to run from their parents' fights. Now, only unidentifiable remains.
Suga, known as the unshakeable rock even when his father and mother tore each other's hearts apart and left, now cracked. His tears, buried deep for years, now flooded his face uncontrollably. Hot and streaming, they soaked his deathly pale cheeks. He grabbed the edge of the autopsy table, his fingers clenching the cold metal until they turned white, seeking an anchor in a world suddenly tilted on its axis.
"Son," a voice, gentle yet firm, cut through his despair. A forensic doctor in a white coat, eyes filled with exhaustion and empathy, stood beside him.
"You can collect... your brother's body for cremation this afternoon. For now, please fill out the identification paperwork at the front desk. To ensure... yes, to ensure everything matches." His words were careful, avoiding the word 'identify'.
Suga nodded stiffly, unable to speak. He stared at the pale remnants of his brother's face, trying to find the shadow of that warm smile beneath the wounds and rigidity. He bent down, almost pressing his forehead to the cold table, his whisper hoarse, "I promise, Bro. I'll find whoever did this."
As he turned towards the door, his gaze collided with a group of people in the hallway. Their eyes were swollen, vacant, or burning with unbearable confusion and rage. A young woman hugged the shoulders of an elderly man whose body trembled violently.
"They... are like you," said the forensic doctor, walking slowly beside Suga. "Families of other victims. Victims of the same serial murder case. They were also just identified."
The cold was no longer just from the AC. Suga froze. "Serial killer?" His breath hitched. "Is... is the perpetrator already caught?"
The doctor shook his head, his sigh heavy as if lifting the weight of the world. "Not yet, son. Still at large. But believe me," he patted Suga's shoulder warmly, though the touch felt hollow amidst the storm inside Suga, "The police are deploying all resources. This case is a priority. We will catch him."
Suga didn't answer.
He stared at the grey sky outside the hallway window, his face as blank as a mask. But his swollen red eyes, the faint tremble in his fingertips, and his shallow breaths were silent screams of agony. In the waiting room, he collapsed onto a hard plastic chair, his body limp. His hand fumbled in his pocket, pulling out an old phone. The screen lit up, displaying a photo of him and his brother, smiling broadly, arms around each other's shoulders on a sunny beach. A contrast that cut deep.
A bitter laugh erupted from his mouth, harsh and filled with anguish.
"No one will tell me anything! Everything's so slow!" he fumed, his voice a hoarse, loud whisper. The look in his eyes, vacant a moment ago, was now sharp as a dagger.
"If that's how it is... I'll find justice for you myself, Bro!"
As Suga drowned in rage and a still-vague plan of vengeance, a sudden commotion erupted down the hall. Several uniformed and plainclothes officers walked briskly. Among them, a man in a dark brown trench coat, hair slightly grey at the temples, his face stern and intensely focused.
Detective Zen. His name often appeared in the news on big cases.
Without a second thought, Suga shot up from his chair. "Detective! Wait a moment!" he shouted, jogging to catch up with the group.
Detective Zen stopped, turning with a slight frown. His team stopped too, their gazes wary.
"Can I help you?" Zen asked, his voice flat yet authoritative.
"I'm Suga," Suga said, trying to contain the turmoil in his chest, but his tired, red eyes still burned.
"Brother of one of the victims... the victim from the slum apartment. The one... who was just identified." His voice grew hoarse at the end.
Detective Zen looked at him more deeply. A flicker of recognition, then it turned to wariness. "Suga... yes. My deepest condolences."
"Can I know?" Suga took a step closer, his voice urgent. "Who did it? Any new leads? Is he--"
"Sorry, son," Zen cut in gently but firmly.
"The investigation is still highly active and sensitive. I can't divulge operational details, especially not suspect names, even if they *were* identified, and they aren't yet. What I can promise you," his gaze pierced Suga, "is that we will pursue him relentlessly. Justice will be served."
"But I need to know! He killed my bro--"
"Sir Zen," a young officer holding a thick file interrupted, his voice a whisper but clear, "The Forensic Doctor is waiting in the briefing room. The comparative autopsy report for all victims is ready."
Zen nodded, then looked back at Suga.
"I'm truly sorry, son. Duty calls." He gave a brief, meaningful nod, more than just a formality.
"Stay strong." Then he turned, his trench coat flapping, and the group walked swiftly away, disappearing down the corridor, leaving Suga alone amidst a sudden, deafening silence.
His head bowed, fists clenched. Empty promises. More waiting. Ten years? Twenty? It felt like a life sentence.
.
.
.
Criminology books lay littered, the computer screen covered in articles about old cases, victim photos pinned to a corkboard. Suga, older and muscular, eyes blazing with resolve, traded his campus uniform for a graduation gown.
A clear sky stretched above the university quad. Cheers rippled through the air.
"YEEESSSS! FINALLY!"
"CONGRATULATIONS! WE'RE OFFICIALLY GRADUATES!" Mortarboards flew like happy black birds.
Amidst the throng, Suga smiled broadly, a genuinely rare expression over the past decade. His chest felt light. He grabbed his fallen cap.
"Suga! Hey, Suga! Congrats, man!" A tall man with glasses, a wide grin, and a friendly demeanor pushed through the crowd and pulled Suga into a tight hug, slapping his back enthusiastically. Jonie, his senior and unofficial mentor throughout university.
"Kak Jonie! You came!" Suga returned the hug, touched. "I thought you were busy with a new case."
"Cases can wait! The graduation of my favorite junior, especially the future star of the Special Crimes Department? Definitely!" Jonie laughed loudly, releasing the hug but keeping a hand on Suga's shoulder. His eyes shone with pride.
"Five years of your hard work paid off. Top of your Criminology class. Your father would be... eh." He stopped, realizing the slip. "I mean, your brother would be incredibly, incredibly proud up there, Sug."
Suga smiled faintly, sad but warm. "Thank you, Kak. That means a lot." His dream since that day in the autopsy room had finally come true: entering the Police's Special Investigation Department (Densus). The door to uncovering the truth and pursuing justice for his brother was wide open.
Jonie patted Suga's shoulder again, more gently. "Speaking of which, when's your Densus entrance exam schedule? Let me help prepare your mind, give you some tips on those sadistic psych tests." His eyes twinkled with enthusiasm.
"As soon as possible, Kak," Suga answered firmly, his eyes gleaming with undimmed steel resolve. "I'll send the full documents tomorrow morning."
"Good! Perfect!" Jonie nodded, satisfied.
"Perfect timing, actually. My division just got assigned a heavy case. Another serial murder case, the modus... unique. Similar to some old unsolved cases." He looked at Suga more intently, the implication clear.
"I might need a new partner who's smart and has... extra motivation. It's less exciting if it's just me complaining about paperwork."
Suga held his breath.
Similar to old cases?
His heart pounded. Could it be? Long-suppressed hope surged. He grinned, mimicking Jonie's confident style. "Just have my desk and my favorite black coffee ready later, Kak Jonie. Wait for my arrival."
"Deal!" Jonie laughed, raising his fist. Suga bumped it back.
Behind their smiles and banter, in Suga's sharp eyes, the image of his brother and the shadow of the darkness that had waited too long flickered. The real hunt was about to begin. Somewhere, the truth, and perhaps the perpetrator, were still waiting to be found.
Cold vengeance was ready to ignite.