Everyone knows him as "Mr. B."
Or in the official report that was never closed:
B. DeVelle—the faceless man who appears in the shadows of fear, the mastermind behind the disappearance of names from Duskvale every year.
A faceless figure who appears in the shadows of fear, in wounds left to rot, and in screams that never reach anyone's ears. He is not a legend, nor is he mere rumor. He is real. He once existed. He once lived. Or perhaps he still lives.
Every year, several names disappear from Duskvale. Never to be found again, no trace, no clues. Only the smell of iron remains, and one strange sentence written in blood.
"Périssez."
★★★
"Warning. You have entered a restricted zone."
Andi—a heavily intoxicated young man who didn't know his way home—slowly turned toward the voice. Under the dim light of a street lamp, a man wearing a black cloth mask, a dark knee-length coat, and a cowboy hat was pointing a gun at his forehead.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to make sure that the man standing a few meters in front of him was real, his vision blurred by the effects of alcohol.
"What kind of costume is that?" Andi asked the man, scratching his neck.
"Is it Halloween already?"
Andi approached the man, staggering, circling the man who remained motionless with a mocking gaze. He laughed heartily, considering the mysterious man's attire a joke in the middle of the night. With unsteady steps and a silly laugh, Andi patted the gun.
"Forget your foolish ambitions and come back to us." Andi laughed loudly again.
The man smiled crookedly behind the mask that covered his face. He let Andi rant as he pleased. Before finally firing a deadly shot right between the man's eyes.
BANG!!
The gunshot broke the silence of the night.
Blood flowed from the middle of Andi's forehead. His body collapsed just like that. The masked man approached, patted Andi's face, then made a cross on his forehead where he had fired the bullet.
"57."
"Get out before you suffer the same fate, miss!" The second shot hit the street lamp.
Shards of glass scattered and fell right on the girl's body. She froze, her body shaking violently, her mind forcing her to run but her body refusing to move. Fear seemed to force her to swallow the events in front of her whole. The masked man turned to look at the girl. With a dismissive laugh, he stood up and tossed his gun at Andi's body.
Mocca was only able to run after the man approached. She forced herself to run as fast as she could. Blood dripped from her temple due to the broken glass that had fallen right on her head. Her steps were limping due to the broken glass she had stepped on, her breath was labored, but her fear was far greater than the pain that spread through her body.
It was Mr. B.
He had only been in Duskvale for a few hours, and already he had to face the living legend of this city.
Damn. Why now? Why me?
"You mustn't see him, beautiful."
The deep, flat voice came from right behind Mocca, making his body tense.
She turned and saw the masked man walking calmly toward her. Relaxed, without rushing. Her eyes widened, Mocca screamed and ran again. But the shards of the street lamp were piercing her feet. Every step felt like a punishment.
She fell. Crawled. Searching for any sound on the empty street.
"HELP!"
"SOMEONE PLEASE!"
There was no answer. Meanwhile, the mysterious man's footsteps were getting closer. It wasn't even midnight yet, but no one came to help or even heard her cries.
Mocca stood up again with the last of her strength, hoping that others would come to her aid. Rumors of a serial killer in town were not a good idea; everyone wanted to save themselves. She kept running until she reached an unoccupied house. It was evident from the fallen leaves that had not been cleaned up and the knee-high grass.
Mocca entered without thinking twice. The house still had utensils covered with white cloth. She hid in the pantry drawer, covering her mouth with her trembling hands. Tears streamed down her face as she held back her sobs with all her might that night. Her body trembled, blood continued to flow from her legs and head. But the pain was overshadowed by the fear she was experiencing at that moment.
Silence fell, and she grimaced in pain. Her body was weak from running and the wounds that cut her skin. She hoped to survive.
"Found you!"
Mocca screamed as Mr. B suddenly opened the drawer door. The man forcibly pulled her body out, dragging her away from the kitchen. She kept struggling, but her legs were trapped by the killer's single hand. A strong, fragrant scent hit her senses, a unique and indescribable aroma like the perfume the man was wearing.
"Please let me go..." she said through her tears. Mocca closed her eyes, holding back her sobs. She crawled slowly and hugged the masked man's legs with the last of her strength. She begged for mercy for her life, which was now just a toy in the eyes of the legendary killer in the city. "I beg you..." she whimpered.
Mr. B tilted his head slightly. He bent down to bring his gaze level with the girl's face. He stared intently at the girl's face, which was slightly smeared with blood from the broken glass that had fallen on her head. The man's gun was pointed straight at Mocca's forehead.
"You are too valuable to stay here, miss." The masked man wiped the girl's face with his hand, which was covered in black leather gloves. He drew a vertical line using the blood flowing from her head, right across the girl's forehead. It was as if he was marking her. Mocca held her breath, unable to bear the cold touch, but her tears continued to flow. Her body shook violently, fear continuing to consume her.
"Hands up!"
Sirens wailed. Police car lights illuminated the house. Mr. B stood up, taking a step back. "Another time, dove." Then he disappeared, crashing through the window. Leaving Mocca frozen, between gratitude for still being alive and something else she couldn't put into words.
Khan Abraham—the new chief of police in the city center—approached his daughter, who was sitting limply with a blank stare. He hugged his daughter tightly, who had been lost from his sight. Mocca shivered in her father's uniformed embrace. "Mocca! Oh my God, you're bleeding!"
She cried. Unable to speak. Her father hugged her tightly, calming her shivering body. "I'm sorry."
In the car on the way to the hospital, Mocca leaned on her father's shoulder, hugging his jacket as if her life depended on it. But outside the window, on the roof of the house they passed, the masked man stood motionless. He slowly raised his knife and gave a thumbs-down gesture.
Mocca closed her eyes, then tightened her embrace around her father. She knew this was only the beginning.