The black Rolls-Royce cruised through the dimly lit streets, cutting through the silence of the late night. The air outside was cold, but inside, the atmosphere carried something heavier maybe an unfinished puzzle.
Ezrin sat by the window, his gaze locked onto the passing cityscape. The neon lights reflected against the dark glass, but his expression remained unreadable, his thoughts somewhere else.
Seraphina watched him from the other side. She knew that look—the way his mind worked in silence, calculating, untangling threads no one else could see.
She tilted her head slightly. "Something's off, isn't it?"
Ezrin didn't answer.
Instead, after a beat of silence, he turned his head towards her, eyes sharp, cold—assessing.
Then, calmly, he spoke. "We still have the proofs. Go through them again. But this time, more focused."
Seraphina frowned slightly. "We gave them to the police."
"No." His voice was quiet but firm. "I gave them duplicates. The real ones are still with us."
Understanding clicked in her mind. He had planned for this.
She leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. "So this case isn't solved yet."
Ezrin looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then, simply "No. It was too easy."
The words settled between them, heavier than the silence that followed.
Seraphina turned her gaze back to the road ahead, her mind already working, piecing together what she might have missed.
Something was still lurking beneath the surface.
And now, they were going to find it.
As soon as they arrived at Oblivion Division, Seraphina didn't waste a second.
She walked straight into her office, shutting the door behind her. The air inside was cool, sterile, but her mind was already burning.
She spread out the original case files across her desk, flipping through the reports with unwavering focus.
There had to be something they missed.
Minutes turned into half an hour, the silence broken only by the soft sound of papers shifting.
Then, she found it.
Her eyes narrowed as she traced a financial transaction buried beneath layers of encrypted data. It wasn't flagged as suspicious before, but now? It stood out.
An unknown offshore account.
A huge sum of money transferred a few months before Emilian's murder.
She leaned back, fingers tapping against the desk. This wasn't Adrian's account.This wasn't Victor's.
This belonged to someone else.
Someone who had been orchestrating everything from the shadows.
The thought sent a slow, knowing smirk to her lips.
"Found you."
Seraphina didn't stop there.
She accessed Oblivion Division's secure database, trying to trace the offshore account and check if similar transactions had been made before.
The account was highly encrypted, almost as if someone expected someone like her to look into it.
She bypassed a few layers of security but kept hitting firewalls.
Her smirk faded slightly. This wasn't just anyone's account. This was someone powerful.
Then she found something.
A name code embedded in one of the past transactions:
"Marionette."
It wasn't a real name it was a signature.
Her blood ran cold for a split second, but her mind and body remained as composed as ever.
A Manipulator.
Someone who doesn't kill with their own hands but moves people like chess pieces.
The realization settled: Adrian and Victor were never the real players. They were pawns.
And the real game was only beginning.
Seraphina exhaled, closing the files. There was only one person she needed to take this to.
She walked through the dimly lit hallways of Oblivion Division, her steps controlled but quick. The air was still, yet it carried a weight, a shift in the game.
Ezrin was in his office when she arrived.
She didn't knock.
Ezrin looked up as she entered, setting aside a file. His eyes flickered to her face, reading the shift in her energy before she even spoke.
She placed the document on his desk, her voice calm but firm."You were right. The case isn't over."
Ezrin's gaze didn't waver. "Explain."
Seraphina sat down, opening the file, pointing at the transaction.
"The money came from an offshore account. It wasn't Adrian's, and it wasn't Victor's." She flipped the page. "And then I found this."
She tapped on the signature.
Ezrin's eyes darkened as he read the name.
"Marionette."
He leaned back, his fingers tapping once against the desk—a sign of calculation, not surprise.
Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "You recognize it."
A slow smirk ghosted over his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've heard it before."
Her jaw clenched. "And?"
Ezrin didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at her, his gaze lingering.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"Now we're in their game."
Ezrin's words had barely settled between them when his phone buzzed.
He didn't hesitate just pulled it out and answered.
Silence.
Seraphina watched as he listened, his expression unreadable, his posture rigid yet effortlessly composed. He didn't interrupt, didn't ask questions. Just let the voice on the other end speak.
Finally, at the very end, he hummed. A low, quiet acknowledgment.
Then, he hung up.
His gaze flicked back to Seraphina. "Get ready. We're going back to Iceland."
No explanation. No discussion.
But Seraphina didn't need one.
Something had shifted.
Without another word, they left Oblivion Division, heading straight for the penthouse. The city outside blurred past them, but her mind was sharper than ever.
The moment they arrived, she packed efficiently, quickly. Ezrin did the same.
Neither of them spoke.
Then to the private jet.
As the engines roared to life, the weight of an unseen force settled between them.
They weren't just returning to Iceland.
They were walking deeper into the game.
And the Manipulator was already waiting.
The private jet soared through the dark sky, the hum of the engines filling the silence between them.
Seraphina sat opposite Ezrin, watching him. He had been quiet since they boarded—not unusual, but this silence carried something heavier.
She leaned back, crossing her arms. "You're thinking too much."
Ezrin, who had been staring out the window, finally looked at her. His gaze was unreadable, yet something lingered beneath it—calculation, control… and something else.
Then, without preamble, he spoke. "Another murder."
Seraphina didn't react—at least, not outwardly. She waited.
Ezrin continued. "Staged. This time in Iceland."
Now, she felt it. A subtle shift in the air.
She tilted her head. "How similar?"
Ezrin held her gaze. "Identical."
The word carried weight. This wasn't a coincidence.
Seraphina exhaled slowly, her fingers tapping once against the armrest.
Someone was mirroring the crime in Norway.
Someone wanted them to see it.
And now, they were flying straight into it.
For the first time in two days, the sun greeted them as they stepped out of the jet. But neither of them paid it any attention. Their minds were already elsewhere.
The drive to Oblivion Division was silent, the weight of the staged murder pressing between them.
Upon arrival, Seraphina was about to head to her office, but Ezrin's voice stopped her.
"In my office."
She turned, meeting his gaze. His tone left no room for argument.
Without a word, she followed him inside.
The office was dimly lit, the air thick with something unspoken. She took a seat as a man entered, handing Ezrin a file before stepping out.
Ezrin placed it in the center of the table, flipping it open.
They both leaned in, studying the contents.
The crime scene photos. The victim's profile. The eerily identical staging to Norway.
Seraphina's mind clicked. "This isn't just another murder." Her voice was steady. "This is a direct message. No one here knew about the case in Norway—except us."
Ezrin nodded. He had known this already.
They continued flipping through the pages. Then—something stood out.
A single line buried in the report.
"The victim possessed extraordinary cognitive abilities."
Seraphina's brow furrowed. "Extraordinary qualities..."
Ezrin's posture shifted. His eyes darkened, his fingers stopping mid-turn of a page.
Then—without hesitation—he stood and strode to a cabinet in the corner.
He pulled out a stack of old files.
Dropped them onto the table.
One by one, he flipped them open, revealing names, photos, case details.
Each one.
Every single victim.
All of them had extraordinary qualities.
A slow, cold realization settled between them.
This was never just about power plays or revenge.
The Manipulator wasn't just killing.
They were choosing.
Ezrin's gaze lifted, locking onto Seraphina's.
"They all died for the same reason."