The city awoke to chaos. News channels blared with frantic urgency, reporters crowding the scene of last night's bloodbath.
"A warehouse belonging to a known organ-trafficking ring was found empty—every member dead. Police sources confirm that each body bore a black ribbon tied around the wrist."
Cameras zoomed in on the eerie symbol. Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.
"The Ribbon Reaper…" someone muttered.
"They say he only kills criminals."
"He's a monster."
"No… he's justice."
[At the Police Precinct – Arin's Side]
Arin sat at his desk, staring at the reports. His black hair was slightly unkempt, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The crime scene photos unsettled him—not the brutality, but the precision.
"This wasn't random," he muttered, scanning the angles. "It's calculated."
Inspector Rao leaned against his desk. "Calculated or not, Arin, this Ribbon Reaper is making us look like fools. Whoever he is, he's killing faster than we can arrest."
Arin frowned, gripping the ribbon left at the scene. His gut twisted, though he didn't know why. A strange familiarity clung to the symbol, as if he'd seen it before… not in reports, but somewhere closer.
Maya entered, her soft voice breaking his trance. "Arin, you didn't come home last night."
He froze, searching for an excuse he didn't have. "…Overtime," he lied.
But Maya's eyes narrowed. "Arin, don't lie to me." Her tone carried both worry and hurt. She touched his hand gently. "Something's happening to you. You disappear, you look… different sometimes. Please, if you're in trouble, tell me."
He lowered his gaze. "I promise… I'll tell you when I understand it myself."
That night, the city's underworld buzzed with fear. Hidden forums exploded with posts:
"The Reaper is watching."
"He hacked my contacts—he knows everything."
"No deal is safe anymore."
Deep within Arin's apartment, Kael sat before a glowing laptop, silver-white hair casting shadows across his sharp features. His eyes, cold and unyielding, scanned streams of data.
Firewalls crumbled before him. He hacked into gang servers, political bribes, even encrypted police reports. He always knew what the criminals planned before they acted—and used their own sins against them.
On the screen, he pulled up the profile of tonight's target: a trafficker in the underground drug market. A man who used children as couriers.
Kael's lips curled into a ghost of a smile. "Tonight, the city learns fear again."
The trafficker laughed drunkenly in his penthouse, unaware of the shadow slipping silently past his guards. Kael moved with inhuman precision, every step anticipated, every camera already looped.
By the time the man realized someone else was in the room, it was too late.
Kael's skull mask—half angel, half demon—gleamed under the dim light. He raised a phone, live-streaming the scene to the dark web.
"You poison children," Kael's distorted voice said through the mask. "Tonight, you drink your own poison."
The man screamed as Kael forced the truth into the broadcast—files, messages, proof of his crimes projected for all to see. The feed ended with a final shot: the trafficker's body, a red ribbon tied around his wrist.
A new color. A new judgment.
By morning, Lucian was in control. Blonde hair messy, shirt half-buttoned, he strolled through a café with Sera by his side, joking loudly enough to annoy everyone within earshot.
"You know what's crazy?" Lucian grinned, sipping her coffee without asking. "If I were a criminal, I'd be the sexiest criminal. They'd call me the 'Playboy Phantom.'"
Sera groaned. "Lucian, you're insufferable."
"Insufferably charming," he corrected, giving her a wink.
She hid her smile, though her cheeks betrayed her. In the madness of Kael's reign of terror and Arin's sleepless police work, Lucian was chaos embodied—carefree, childish, romantic. A side of the man that wanted love instead of justice or blood.
That night, in alleys and bars, in homes and prisons, people whispered:
"The Reaper spares the innocent."
"He punishes the guilty."
"Maybe… he's not a man at all. Maybe he's a god."
And in his apartment, Arin sat alone, staring at the black and red ribbons he'd found hidden in his desk drawer.
His heart pounded. His hands shook.
"Why… why do I have these?"
The answer lingered in the shadows of his fractured mind, waiting to be revealed.