September 26, 20CH. Evening. It had been raining for over two hours with no sign of stopping.
Behind the house, on a small washing porch, Diep La washed the piles of dirty dishes left over from dinner.
Shouts and curses echoed from inside the house. Painful pleas rang out like a programmed chorus, repeating over and over until they became tedious.
Once the dishes were washed and neatly tucked onto the rack, Diep La stepped back into the house like a machine accustomed to its routine chores.
She froze in front of a small bedroom. Through the wooden door, a voice—strange yet familiar—came through a phone.
"Is the money I sent enough?"
Was that Fifth Uncle's voice?
"Don't send me any more money. No matter how much you send, that old man takes it all."
A chuckle came from the other end of the line, vanity evident in every word.
"It's alright, my love. I have plenty of money. Just tell me whenever you need more."
Their tone was sickeningly intimate—a love that sheltered and warmed two people hundreds of miles apart, yet could not find compassion for the two people standing right in front of them.
There were no loud words. No outbursts of anger. There was only silence, despite the lively chatter and laughter inside the room. In the hallway, there was only the sound of light footsteps gliding past like a shadow.
In the end, my weakness is still family.
Enveloped in the thick darkness of her small space, Diep La worked diligently on her school assignments.
Her left hand wrote on scratch paper with a firm, rigid script; her right hand intentionally slanted the strokes to create a soft, flowing handwriting in her notebook.
Neither of these contrasting styles was her true handwriting. To achieve this, she had undergone a year of continuous practice.
Once finished, the results looked as if two different people with two distinct handwritings had solved the difficult problems together.
In contrast to the icy silence of Diep La's room, the atmosphere in Da Dang Ha's investigation room was as hot as a furnace.
Based on clues from the previous case, he had dispatched officers to investigate the Thanh Tuyen district. They were paying particular attention to men between the ages of 35 and 45.
Lang Dinh sat leaned back in his chair, feet crossed on the desk. One hand propped up his head while the other pulled a cola-flavored lollipop from his mouth. He spoke:
"Inspector Da, I think this killer has an accomplice."
"An accomplice?"
"Yes. Because there is no way that killer could collect a victim's data—especially classified documents—while simultaneously committing murder and evading the police. To do both at once, he must at least have an organization behind him, or an accomplice who specializes in gathering information and helping him maintain his cover."
"You have a point..."
Da Dang Ha fell into deep thought. Suddenly, the killer's latest message flashed through his mind. He asked:
"What about the Moc Bach case? I've had people tailing the CEO of Moc Bach, Moc To Chau, as you suggested."
"Mm, just keep an eye on the people around Moc To Chau to see if anyone is suspicious."
Lang Dinh took his feet off the desk and slumped his head onto the table in a display of helplessness that worried Da Dang Ha.
"Lang Dinh, what's wrong? Have some coffee."
As he spoke, Da Dang Ha pushed a cup of sweet white coffee toward Lang Dinh.
The young man sighed and replied:
"I don't know why. I feel like it's too simple this time. I don't know what kind of tricks the killer is playing."
Looking at the now-cooled coffee, he continued:
"Next time, Uncle, make it black coffee. No milk, no sugar."
Da Dang Ha was surprised. He hadn't expected someone with such a sweet tooth like Lang Dinh to accept a cup of sugarless coffee.
"What's come over you today? Do you need a doctor?"
Lang Dinh sighed again. "I just feel... life is already bitter. A little more bitterness won't hurt."
September 27, 20CH...
9:27 AM, Khanh Dong Secondary School...
During recess, Diep La went to the girls' restroom as usual. The moment she stepped inside, a sudden chill washed over her small face as water doused her short hair and dripped onto her shoulders.
A burst of delighted laughter erupted, sounding like demons who had just caught their prey. It was already noisy outside, but it was even more raucous in here.
An Binh stood timidly behind three other female classmates like a vulnerable kitten—pitiful, yet dangerous.
One girl had long brown hair, sun-damaged and cut shoulder-length. She wore a black T-shirt and a silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant, paired with long black wide-leg trousers instead of the school uniform's white shirt, dark gray tie, and gray skirt.
This was Vu Kien Nhan, a delinquent student who often skipped class to go to internet cafes. Her family was wealthy, and she was very close to An Binh.
After hearing that An Binh's wallet had been stolen, Vu Kien Nhan was furious and had immediately returned to school to seek revenge for her good friend.
Following Vu Kien Nhan, besides An Binh, were Tue That and Thi Vi, two other close friends from their class.
Glancing at the four of them, Diep La understood the situation instantly. Her gaze settled on An Binh, who was acting timid and pretending to try and calm Vu Kien Nhan down.
Catching Diep La's indifferent gaze, Vu Kien Nhan became irritated and raised her voice:
"If you had the nerve to steal my friend's wallet, you'd better have the nerve to face the consequences! I'm here to settle the score!!"
Facing Vu Kien Nhan's blunt accusation, Diep La looked her straight in the eye without hesitation and replied calmly:
"I didn't do it. The day before yesterday, the moment the bell rang, I left. The hallway cameras can prove it. If you suspect I stole it during class, I'm sorry, but that's impossible. I sit at the end of the row; An Binh sits at the second desk. Throughout the entire lesson, I never left my seat. Furthermore, I am an outcast in class; I couldn't have asked someone else to steal it for me. May I ask, classmate Vu, when exactly did I take classmate An's wallet?"
Vu Kien Nhan was suddenly speechless. Although she rarely attended class, she knew well enough that Diep La was isolated.
It wasn't that anyone had bullied Diep La into isolation; rather, Diep La had isolated herself from everyone since the beginning of the year, so people eventually followed suit. However, she had always maintained a neutral role, never making enemies.
In this theft, hiding the wallet in a desk drawer was far too obvious—almost as if someone wanted to expose the "outcast" as the culprit to everyone.
Vu Kien Nhan instinctively glanced at An Binh. Usually, An Binh had a habit of spending money and could never save up such a large sum.
After a moment, Vu Kien Nhan realized the truth. She shoved her hands into her pockets, walked past Diep La, and whispered:
"Sorry."
The word was light, passing by like a breeze through the branches.
Tue That and Thi Vi were stunned, unable to understand what had just happened. On the outside, An Binh looked shocked, but inside, she felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her.
Diep La spoke up, cutting through their surprise:
"Do the three of you have anything else you want to ask or discuss?"
Tue That clenched her fists in anger and quickly grabbed her two friends' hands to lead them out of the restroom.
Before crossing the threshold, An Binh stole a glance back. Her body suddenly trembled when she saw Diep La watching her with a grotesque smile and eyes filled with a cruel, red malice.
That gaze and that smile did not belong to a human—they belonged to a demon craving its prey.