The New Eridu Public Security station on Eighth Street was a fortress of glass and steel, its walls pulsing with Ether-infused panels that hummed like a dormant Hollow rift.
Michael sat in a stark interrogation room, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across the metal table.
His black tie was slightly askew, his suit jacket draped over the chair, and his trimmed beard itched from the sweat of a long night.
The 10,000-dennie chip from his lottery win weighed heavy in his pocket.
But now, facing an interrogation after stumbling onto five murdered bodies, that luck felt like a double-edged blade.
Stay calm. Tell the truth, he thought, his rational mind steady despite the pressure.
He wasn't a doomer, blaming every twist on fate.
The murders were not his fault; he had simply been in the wrong alley at the wrong time.
Still, the unexpected weight of being the only witness, hauled in for a testimony by Zhu Yuan and Qingyi, made his pulse quicken.
He gripped the brass coin in his pocket, its warmth grounding him.
The door slid open with a hiss, and Zhu Yuan and Qingyi entered.
Zhu Yuan, tall and authoritative in her public security uniform, her dark hair tied back, carried a tablet glowing with case files.
Qingyi, her android frame sleek and her green-tinted hair catching the light, moved with mechanical precision, her eyes whirring as they scanned Michael.
He recognized them from the Zenless Zone Zero wikis he'd read on Earth-heroes of New Eridu, now sizing him up like a suspect.
The surrealness of it sparked a flicker of frustration, but he tamped it down.
Focus. They're just doing their job.
"Mr. Varen," Zhu Yuan began, her voice firm but measured, "thank you for cooperating.
Let's go over what you saw in the alley.
Start from the moment you left the 141 Convenience Store."
Michael nodded, his tone even. "I'd just picked up my lottery winnings-10,000 Dennies.
"Walked out, heard screams from the alley off Seventh Street."
"I went to check, thinking it might be a fight. Found five bodies, blood everywhere, stab wounds."
"That's when you showed up." He kept it concise, sticking to the facts.
Qingyi tilted her head, her mechanical voice cool.
"Time between the screams and your arrival at the scene?"
"Less than a minute," Michael said.
"It was quiet when I got there. No one else around."
Zhu Yuan tapped her tablet, pulling up crime scene photos-gruesome shots of the bodies, their wounds stark under neon light.
"You didn't see anyone fleeing? No weapons, no sounds?"
Michael shook his head.
"Nothing. Just the bodies."
He paused, his rational mind turning over the scene.
Five dead, no witnesses, no obvious weapons.
His work at the White Star Institute and his firm, analyzing data, had sharpened his pattern recognition, and the coin's subtle influence-the Misfortune Mage's knack for seeing fate's threads-nudged his thoughts.
He could sense the interrogation stalling, Zhu Yuan's questions circling the same ground.
They've got nothing. Time to shift the odds.
"Look," Michael said, leaning forward, his voice steady but edged with confidence.
"I'm no Proxy, but I've spent years crunching data, spotting patterns. Those bodies have a story to tell and were not simply dumped."
Zhu Yuan raised an eyebrow, but Qingyi's eyes whirred, intrigued.
"Go on," Zhu Yuan said, folding her arms.
"What do you see?"
Michael took a breath, his mind sharpening as if the Wheel of Fortune itself turned in his favor.
"The wounds," he began, pointing to the tablet's photos.
"They're precise-deep stabs to vital points, heart and throat, no defensive marks."
"These weren't random attacks. Whoever killed them was trained, likely using a short blade, maybe a tactical knife, not an Ether weapon-there's no burn residue or signs of Ether."
"The blood pools suggest they died where they fell, within seconds of each other.
"Judging by how long their bodies remained fresh, I would estimate 30 minutes for all of them. The killings were immediate."
"This was a coordinated hit, probably one attacker moving fast."
He tapped the screen, zooming in on the victims' positions.
"See how they're arranged? Not scattered, but in a rough semicircle, facing outward."
"They were ambushed, cornered, maybe expecting a deal or a meeting. The absence of footprints in the blood indicates that the murderer moved cautiously and avoided the mess-professionally, I also guess there is no other type of retrievable print."
His thoughts raced, the coin's warmth in his pocket amplifying his clarity.
This is the Mage's edge-seeing what others miss.
Qingyi's mechanical gaze locked onto him, her voice tinged with surprise.
"You deduced this from a glance at the scene?"
"I've got a knack for details," Michael said, shrugging but holding their eyes.
"I am just good at analyzing-patterns, anomalies. This isn't so different."
"The victims' clothes-cheap, mismatched, no faction insignias-suggest they were low-level runners, maybe smugglers tied to some shady organization or a similar one.
"The alley nearby is likely the proxy drop point. I'd bet they were meeting someone and got betrayed."
Zhu Yuan leaned back, her sharp eyes narrowing.
"That's... specific. You're saying this was a targeted execution, not a gang brawl?"
"Exactly," Michael said.
"Check their pockets for data chips or Polychromes. If they're clean, the killer took payment-means it was a job, not a robbery."
He paused, his rational mind checking his confidence. Don't overplay it.
"I'm just connecting dots. You've got the real tools to confirm."
Qingyi's eyes whirred, processing.
"Your analysis aligns with preliminary forensics-single assailant, bladed weapon, no ether traces. Victim profiles are pending, but your smuggler theory fits known activity in that sector."
She glanced at Zhu Yuan, her tone almost approving.
"He's perceptive for a data analyst."
Zhu Yuan set her tablet down, her expression a mix of shock and grudging respect.
"You've got a sharp eye, Mr. Varen. Most witnesses don't break down a crime scene like that."
She stood, motioning to Qingyi. "We'll verify your statement and cross-check your theory. You're free to go, but stay available-we may need you for follow-up."
Michael nodded, standing and adjusting his tie.
"I'll be around. Good luck with the case."
His heart pounded, not from fear but from the thrill of being right.
The coin's luck, or the mage's insight? Either way, I nailed it.
The unexpected-facing Zhu Yuan and Qingyi, breaking down a murder scene-had pushed him, but he'd kept his cool, turning the moment to his advantage.
As he stepped out of the interrogation room, the station's neon-lit halls buzzing with Public Security drones, he felt the coin in his pocket pulse faintly.
The Wheel of Fortune had turned again, his Misfortune Mage abilities weaving luck and insight into something sharper.
But the five bodies lingered in his memory, a reminder that his powers could tilt fate in ways he didn't yet understand.
As he left the station, the city's neon glow felt both inviting and ominous.
His 10,000-Dennie chip still heavy in his pocket.
His black tie hung loose, his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, and his trimmed beard itched from the night's stress.
I pulled it off, he thought, a flicker of pride steadying his pulse.
The Sequence abilities from Lord of the Mysteries were truly miraculous.
The bus ride back to Seventh Street was quiet, the city's hum muted by the late hour.
Michael's thoughts churned, rational but wary. The coin worked for the lottery, and I nailed the analysis. But those murders... Was that my misfortune leaking?
He couldn't dismiss that it was part of it.
Let's just focus on the job, the Dennies. Keep moving forward.
His apartment building loomed ahead, its
The stairwell smelled of motor oil and stale ramen, and his loafers echoed as he climbed to his floor.
Tomorrow, I'll start fresh at the Institute.
Maybe dig into those murders on my own terms later.
He unlocked his door, the familiar mess of his apartment-ramen wrappers, a busted
Bangboo-greeting him like an old friend.
The neon light from the window cast jagged shadows, and he tossed his jacket onto a chair, ready to crash.
Then, the air shifted. A chill ran down his spine, not from the cold but from a subtle wrongness, like a Hollow Rift's static hum.
Before he could react, a black-gloved hand clamped over his mouth, and a sharp pain jabbed his neck-a needle, fast and precise.
Michael's vision blurred, his rational calm fracturing into panic as his legs buckled.
What the hell? He thought, struggling, but his arms grew heavy, the coin slipping from his fingers.
Rough hands dragged him backward, the apartment's neon glow fading into darkness.
He was abducted, swallowed by shadows as swiftly as a Hollow's rift.
The Wheel of Fortune had turned again, and this time, it wasn't in his favor.