The whispers began that morning—another murder had taken place. The scene was disturbingly similar to mine: a quiet corridor, a deserted classroom, a body left in a way that screamed precision. I had not planned this. I had not raised a hand.
I arrived at school and found the halls buzzing with fear and confusion. The victim was a student, chosen with a cold calculation that mirrored my own methods. The killer had struck with the same swift brutality I once executed. In a dimly lit hallway, a clean, deliberate cut on the victim's throat was the only mark of the crime. Blood pooled quietly on the polished floor, as if following an unspoken set of rules.
As I moved through the chaos, my mind raced. This murder was not mine. The signature was there—every careful movement, every detail of the kill was reminiscent of my work. But the execution was different. It was a copy, a mimicry of my dark art. Someone had stepped into my territory.
I observed the scene from a distance, my pulse steady but my thoughts churning with unease. Teachers and students clustered together, speculating and shaking their heads in disbelief. I blended into the crowd, the mask of a shocked and concerned student firmly in place. Inside, however, a battle raged—a mix of curiosity and a hidden thrill.
Who could dare imitate me?
I retraced my own steps in my mind, wondering if my precise planning had somehow been uncovered or, worse, shared. The idea that another predator was playing the same game sent a chill through me. I began watching every shadow, every glance, every whispered conversation. I had to know if this was a rival or an imitator, someone who dared encroach upon my dark world.
The copycat incident was not just a reflection of my methods—it was a challenge. It was a call to a silent battle where every move was a test of nerve and control. I felt the thrill of danger again, the same dangerous spark that had driven my first kill. But this time, I was not the only player.
As the day wore on, I knew that the lines between hunter and hunted had blurred further. In this territory, only the strongest predator would survive—and now, someone else was playing the game.