Cherry's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen—Mom. He hesitated, then answered.
"Cherry, are you okay?" Her voice was full of worry.
"Ye... yes, Mom. I'm fine."
"And your injury? Is it better now?"
Cherry froze. "Wait... how do you even know about my injury?"
He lowered his voice, glancing around. "Kail... why did you tell her?"
Kail's voice came faintly from the side, "Because you didn't tell her yourself."
"I promised you I wouldn't," Cherry muttered.
"Mom, who told you?"
"Insp. Phelps," she replied.
Cherry stiffened. "What the hell? Why is he even crossing my path?"
"Cherry, leave that place," his mother urged. "It's not safe for you. You've been attacked twice already."
"Three times, Mom," Cherry corrected softly.
"What?"
"Three times," he repeated.
"Then come back home. Please, Cherry."
"And what about my job?"
"Leave that job. I've already lost your father because of it." Her voice cracked. "I can't lose you too."
"I know Dad's death was... heartbreaking," Cherry said quietly. "It's been two years—"
"Then come home. Stay with me, settle down. If you do, you'll forget all this pain. I can even arrange your marriage—"
"Marriage?" Cherry cut her off. "No, Mom. I don't want to marry. And I'm not coming home."
"Cherry, don't argue with me—"
"I'm sorry, Mom. But I can't come back."
"I don't think badly for you, Cherry. Please, come back. It's for your own good."
"I know you mean well... but I can't."
There was a long silence. Then the line went dead.
Cherry lowered the phone, exhaled slowly, and brushed away the moisture forming in his eyes. "Let's start the investigation."
"I'll find out who owns that number," he told Kail. "You check Jennifer's house for her diary."
"No," Kail shook his head. "I'll find out about the number. You go to Jennifer's."
"But—"
"No arguments," Kail cut in.
"Fine," Cherry relented.
"Anderu spoke up. "I'll go with Kail."
Cherry nodded. "Please... be safe."
Kail and Anderu climbed into Anderu's car and headed off toward the Dead Drugs Zone. Cherry drove in the opposite direction, toward Jennifer's house.
When he arrived, he parked quietly and circled to the back door. Tall bushes made the path narrow, the dim light barely enough to see by. As he pushed forward, his foot caught on something, and he stumbled. Looking up, he spotted a small, weathered door.
It wasn't locked. He stepped inside—straight into Jennifer's bedroom.
He began to search. Every drawer, every shelf, every corner of the room. Nothing. No diary.
He moved into the hall, then upstairs. Still nothing. It was as if whoever had been here before him had erased every trace of evidence. Frustration gnawed at him.
Then he noticed it—a small metal handle inside the chimney, half-buried beneath cold ash. He pulled away the soot and found a narrow trapdoor.
A ladder descended into darkness.
Cherry's breath caught. Claustrophobia. He hated tight spaces. But the possibility of answers outweighed the fear.
He gripped a torch, took a long, slow breath, and climbed down.
The air below was heavy with dust. The moment his feet touched the ground, he doubled over, coughing hard. The passage ahead was narrow, the walls pressing in.
It's just the claustrophobia, he told himself. That's all.
But halfway down the path, he felt it—someone was here. Watching.
His chest tightened. His vision blurred. He stumbled forward, trying to fight the dizziness.
Then the world tilted, and everything went black.
Meanwhile...
Kail and Anderu reached the Dead Drugs Zone—a desolate cluster of decaying buildings. They moved through the crumbling rooms, each step stirring the stale air. They searched for hours, checking every corner for signs of life or hidden evidence.
Nothing. Just dust, rust, and silence.
Back underground...
Cherry woke to the sound of footsteps. Someone was holding him, pressing a bottle of water to his lips.
"Drink," the voice urged.
Cherry blinked—and panic surged. He shoved the figure away, stumbling back.
"It's me!" the voice said quickly. "Sammy. No need to panic."
She glanced around. "A forgotten part of the property," Sammy explained. "I think it connects to the old servant quarters. I didn't want to move too far without you."
Something about her tone unsettled Cherry.
"Did you hear someone else here?" she asked.
Sammy hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes... footsteps. Not mine. Not yours."
"You have claustrophobia, Cherry. This place isn't good for you," Sammy added.
They moved together through the narrow corridor until Cherry spotted a drawer. She knelt, tested it—it was locked. Pulling a hairpin from her pocket, she worked at the mechanism until it clicked open.
Inside lay Jennifer's diary.
Cherry flipped through it quickly. The early pages were personal—everyday notes, trivial thoughts. But around page fifty, the tone changed.
Today I found something unexpected. About drugs. Supply. Human trafficking. I went there because of my documentary. Inside, I found a file about Detective Conal. They killed him... and trapped his agent Nako.
Cherry's eyes widened. "What...? Conal didn't die in an accident. He was murdered. Those... bastards killed my dad."
She turned the page—
I told everything to Simmy. She told me not to believe anyone. Tomorrow, we were both going to the police station.
Cherry looked up, confused. "Jennifer told you everything, Simmy... so why did you hide it from me?"
Simmy's expression shifted. She grabbed Cherry by the neck, shoving him against the wall, and drove her fist into his injury.
"Yes," she said coldly. "I know everything. Because it's my family's business. Jennifer was collecting information about my brother. But she didn't know I had a brother. How stupid is that?"
"No... she wasn't stupid. She trusted you."
"Do you know who killed Jennifer?" Simmy asked.
Cherry's voice broke. "Who?"
"I did."
Before Cherry could respond, Kail's name flashed on his phone. Simmy snatched it, clamped her hand over Cherry's mouth, and answered.
"Cherry?" Kail's voice came through. "This place is empty—nothing here."
"This is Simmy speaking," she replied.
"What? But this is Cherry's number!"
"Yes. Cherry's unconscious. Claustrophobia hit him."
"What? I'm coming—"
"No need," Simmy cut in smoothly. "He called me for help. I'm here now."
She ended the call, slid the phone away, and looked down at Cherry.
"If you're wondering why I told you anything... it's because I didn't know where Jennifer hid her diary. I knew you'd find it."
She hit his injury again. Cherry gasped in pain.
From her bag, she pulled a bottle of chloroform and a folded cloth.
Cherry tried to run, but the pain slowed him. Simmy caught him easily, slammed him into the wall, and pressed the cloth over his mouth and nose.
He fought, twisting, kicking—but her grip was iron.
The chemical sting filled his lungs. His vision dimmed. The world receded.
And then, darkness.
Kail, still holding his phone, had heard enough.
End Of Chapter 7