The harsh scraping sound of foam boxes set her teeth on edge, but she endured the discomfort and forced herself through her work.
Years of accumulated grease had turned the walls a scorched yellow, and a foul odor hung thick in the air.
“Lin Mo,” a head poked out from the front desk, “we have customers. Come out and give us a hand.”
“Okay.” Lin Mo neatly bound the unfolded plastic cardboard boxes, resting her hands on her thighs as she pushed herself up.
Her coworker gave her a strange look before suddenly cautioning her, “What time did you get in this morning? Avoid taking that route when off work lately. I heard something bad happened there and it's not safe! Daytime is one thing, but once it gets pitch-black after work... be careful.”
Lin Mo offered a brief reply, “Got it, you too.”
Stepping into the kitchen, she stared at the risotto on the plate, an ominous foreboding welling up inside her. The feeling made her chest tight and panicky, causing her to double over while clutching her chest in discomfort.
She set the plate down and hastily took a step back as if fleeing, stepping out of the kitchen to settle the lingering oppression in her chest.
Just then, her phone vibrated against her clothes.
The lit screen illuminated her pale face. Staring at the unknown number popping up on the screen, her expression turned cold. After a moment's hesitation, she tapped the message open with freezing fingertips.
The unknown number was a random string of digits. It had sent an image, which slowly loaded before her eyes. Lagging due to a poor network connection, it started as a few blurry blocks of color before gradually coming into focus.
Her coworker urged her again.
“Lin Mo, what are you waiting for over there?”
In the photo:
Rainwater coursed down the alley. Poor drainage had created puddle after puddle along the pitted road surface. In the pitch-black alley, an unidentified figure wearing a raincoat had half their body hidden in shadow, back turned to the camera, holding an indistinct, protruding object.
Deep in the gloom, there was a shape resembling a pair of legs.
The rain that day had been pouring heavily, yet the camera shot was surprisingly clear. Though parts of the body were enveloped in darkness, it could not disguise her silhouette.
She heard herself swallow hard, her throat feeling unnaturally dry.
Someone saw. They really saw it.
How had she failed to notice? The camera had been right behind her to her side.
The outcome she dreaded most had come to pass. Someone had indeed seen her—and even taken a picture.
It really was... really was...
Miserable.
Was the person who took the photo the same one who swapped the bodies? And what did he want?
Knowing who the killer was, why hadn't he reported her?
Lin Mo closed her eyes. Among all the people she had come into contact with, who was most likely to have noticed her anomaly?
The man she met during the day, that staff member working at the Security Bureau?
His suspicion of her had reached certainty, to the point where he hadn't even bothered probing.
Was it the friend who had just warned her?
At such a coincidental moment, right before the message arrived... was her concern actually a subtle warning and threat? Perhaps she wanted to blackmail her.
Or was it Lin Nan?
Lin Mo wasn't sure if her movements last night had aroused his suspicion.
Her fear stemmed from the unknown.
She had nothing—no wealth, no profitable gain to offer. If that person wanted something from her, it could only be her life.
Annoyed by her lingering, her coworker called out for the third time, “Lin Mo, have you gone dull-witted!”
Gripping the phone so tightly her palm turned pale, Lin Mo turned in a daze, accidentally knocking over a plastic bucket beside her. She scrambled to pull it upright before hurrying back to the kitchen to carry out the risotto.
The customer had been waiting a long time and was about to blow his top, but when he looked up and saw the waitress's sinisterly gloomy expression, his curses died in his throat. He felt a sudden chill run down his spine.
Why did the temperature drop the moment the waitress arrived? She looked like a bloodless ghost, giving him a fright.
Haha... she couldn't be a fugitive on the run, could she...?
The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became. Though suspicion and hesitation flickered in the depths of his mind, his self-importance impelled him to snap, “Give...”
Lin Mo had already walked away in a daze.
The customer...
...
【Who are you?】
Lin Mo ducked back into the storeroom, the incandescent light swinging overhead.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead with a cold palm and typed those three words.
The unknown number had no interest in playing hide-and-seek with her. Perhaps he didn't believe she could trace his identity from the number at all, for he generously sent back a message.
【I helped you.】
Lin Mo's lips quivered. Her heart pounded against her ribs as a wave of even greater terror surged over her.
Help... help with what? Help her evade the Security Bureau's suspicions?
It was the same person!
With trembling hands, she typed a second line.
【Where are you.】
...
Forsiman sat on a chair with his head lowered, scrolling through his phone. Not far away was an autopsy half-finished. The internal organs were severely decomposed, and he didn't care for the smell, so he nudged his chair a bit further away.
A message popped up on his phone. Tilting his head to look at it, he found it stranger the more he looked.
Even though he had discovered her secret and approached with ill intentions, he felt that his message had exuded goodwill, deliberately bridging the distance between them.
To get information out of him, shouldn't her tone soften a little? He held all the leverage over her, after all. Shouldn't she be terrified and submissive?
He didn't expect her to trust him right away; no normal person would lower their guard so easily. But shouldn't the next response be 【Why did you help me?】 or 【What do you want】?
Then again, he wasn't dealing with a normal person. Even the blank space in her identity file was something he had covered up.
In that case, the phrase "Where are you" carried a loaded implication.
Perhaps she had already grown suspicious of his identity.
Forsiman's interest was piqued. Leaning forward, he tossed the phone onto the desk in front of him, choosing to give her the cold shoulder and leave it unanswered.
Let's see then—would she overcome her fear and find him first, or would he strike first?
Once fear and resentment recurred repeatedly, they would compromise a person's thinking and judgment. Perfect. That would make disposing of her all the more convenient. People always had to pay the price for their misdeeds.
...
Lin Mo stared intently at the screen. Seeing no second reply pop up, her fingers hovering above the display grew stiff and painful, while her pupils turned unnaturally dark.
Time slipped away minute by minute. Urging calls and murmurs echoed nearby. Unfastening her apron, she stuffed it into a bag and called out to the inner room, “I'm sorry, but could you help me request time off? I have an emergency, a very urgent one! Even... even if I'm fired, it's fine!”
Shouting this, she slipped out through the back door with a clear destination in mind.
“Lin Mo!” Turning around to find her gone, the coworker yelled in complaint, “Things are just picking up, and you slack off! I'm telling the boss to dock your pay!”
...
Keyboards clattered noisily, intermingled with background chatter and fragmented speech.
“What? What useful information can you provide?”
“That works.”
“Coming over directly? Are you saying you're being threatened?”
...
“Busy so early in the morning?” Forsiman raised an eyebrow while holding his coffee. Walking across the office, he took a seat at his desk and leaned comfortably against the back of his chair. “Sounds like someone wants to provide a lead?”
He took a sip of coffee. “Which case is it? Need any help from me?”
The dispatcher hung up the phone and explained freely, “Beihe West Road. The citizen who just called to provide a lead said she was questioned by a man wearing a white uniform, and she made a condition—she doesn't want to see him again during this Security Bureau questioning.”
She decoded it instantly. “Thinking about it, that has to be you, right? So, do you think there's something wrong with her?”
The dispatcher looked up at Forsiman. Forsiman didn't answer, instead staring straight at her.
The dispatcher clicked her tongue. “Tsk.”
Forsiman said, “Nope.”
He chuckled twice. “Did you agree to her condition?”
The dispatcher said, “Of course not. How could I?”
She knew how to tell insiders from outsiders. If the person resisted seeing Forsiman, all the more reason to have Forsiman deal with her—maybe they could extract a solid lead that way.
“Besides, if you know anything, you can come along and take a look to help the others solve the case,” the dispatcher began logging the call. “Don't think that just because you handed in your report, you can kick back and slack off.”
Forsiman swiveled his chair around, his full attention focused on her very first sentence.
What did that mean? The killer wanted to surrender? Had she been scared into surrendering after he sent just two messages? Couldn't she handle any pressure at all?
His thoughts turned chaotic for a moment. He knew the reason she actively contacted the Security Bureau wouldn't be so simple, but the suspicion that flashed in his mind first still left him briefly stunned.
What the hell? Such weak mental fortitude!
Then again, her expression during their second meeting had said it all. When she saw the crime scene discovered, all her fear and distress had been laid bare.
Put that way, crumbling under pressure was only natural.
Once his thoughts settled, Forsiman's brain finally kicked back into gear.
If he ruled out the possibility that she was truly scared into turning herself in, then she was using the pretense of "surrendering" to bait him out.
Putting himself in her shoes: after all, if she knew the person threatening her wanted something from her and was watching her from the shadows, that person wouldn't just sit back and watch her fall into someone else's hands.
Leaning against the backrest, Forsiman smiled silently. Little did she suspect that if she fell into the hands of the Security Bureau, it would actually make it easier for him to make a move.
However, doing so would greatly increase the probability of his exposure. There was no need to take unnecessary risks; he still needed his identity as an external forensic doctor for now.
Still, the issue was easily resolved. Time to give her a little sweet bite—giving her a slight leverage over him so he wouldn't have to worry about a cornered dog jumping over a wall.
Forsiman openly pulled out his phone and sent a message: 【Can't have you being so easily spooked.】
Lin Mo no longer took that shortcut; she took a detour back home. The noon sky remained gloomy and overcast.
The moment she arrived home, this message popped up—right on the heels of her phone call to the Bureau.
Too fast. It was almost as if he had been the one to answer that phone call.
She immediately confirmed that the person messaging her was the strange mixed-race man working with the Security Bureau.
The person who had witnessed everything that night.
The news fragment she had overheard the other day, the crime scene she had seen this morning...
Red clay, news, souls...
Everything—all the fragmented clues—gradually coalesced into a single truth: "the Tourist."
In an instant, an uncontrollable panic seized her. Panic clutched her heart, squeezing her lungs, leaving her dizzy and unable to breathe.
Rate on N.U.
