The air shifted.
The moment froze.
Aiden entered the inn manager's office.
The floorboard let out a faint creak under his heavy boots.
A hanging lamp swayed above the desk, its shadows fracturing across the face of the man sitting behind it, dismantling his fear line by line.
The man was bald, his shirt tight around his neck, sweat pouring down, his eyes fleeing from the confrontation.
Aiden sat across from him.
Back straight.
Fingers interlaced.
He leaned on his elbow, resting his face in his palm… watching him like a piece of art that stirred neither wonder nor mercy within him.
He spoke with a terrifying calm: "Don't worry… I'm not the villain in this story. I won't force you to say what you fear… but I prefer you speak the truth with your own tongue, rather than under the weight of shackles."
He leaned forward slightly.
"What do you think… if we went together to the place where you buried your poison? The place that hooked you by your soul until you forgot who you were."
He smiled.
A cold smile, devoid of warmth.
"I know you were a good man… or used to be. So, do you prefer a police interrogation? Or a confession now… one that brings you back—even if just a little—to the features of that old human self?"
Silence.
Then, he asked, like a final stab:
"Was the life of children and teenagers a cheap game in your hands?"
The man trembled.
Words shattered in his throat.
"I… I didn't mean to… I couldn't go back… everything was so easy in the beginning…"
Aiden raised an eyebrow, a look of lethal amusement.
"And was it delicious? That life that ate you away, piece by piece?"
Silence swallowed the room.
Then he spoke, his voice low… like an ancient incantation:
"Life is a maze. Every corner is a trap. And you… you fell into the first trap and mistook it for survival."
The man finally lifted his head, his eyes filled with something resembling wakefulness.
"Follow me… I will lead you to the place. I don't want to die with this burden on my conscience."
The police handcuffed him.
His breath was ragged, his gaze fixed on Aiden.
"I never wanted to forget my humanity…"
Aiden approached.
His steps silenced the place.
He placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
It was warm… unusually so.
"You are on the right path now. Fix the mistake… do not run from it."
He lowered his hand slowly.
And his eyes—the blackness bled with pale blue—lost their cruelty for a moment.
A fleeting memory:
A damp basement.
Rusting chains.
An iron door slamming shut.
And the sound of a father's footsteps fading away…
Arin's voice cut through: "Aiden… are you with us?"
Aiden blinked.
A cynical smile.
"Strange weather… every time I catch a criminal, I lose my signal because I am… sad."
Arin laughed: "You're still a madman."
Aiden opened his car door.
He looked at him from the corner of his eye:
"Let's not meet too often… Arin."
The engine roared—the growl of a wounded beast.
On the other side, Arin's car glided away with elegant fluidity.
Two clashing notes in a single night—
A quiet piano…
And the tightly strung chords of rage.