Chapter 1
Edward Quan ·
The girl who bullied me claimed to be a mysterious online crime novelist.
Our classmates fell over themselves to flatter her.
I, the real author, watched coldly.
She didn't know that I had witnessed the murder in that book with my own eyes.
Or that the killer was looking for me.
“Cửu Hòa updated!”
The news spread, and the whole class crowded together.
“Holy shit. A murder in a rain-soaked alley this time. This is intense.”
“That's Cửu Hòa for you. Ten minutes after posting, and ten thousand comments begging for more!”
“She took a week off. No wonder everyone's desperate...”
They were discussing the latest work by the internet's hottest mystery author, Cửu Hòa.
Trình Hàm spoke with studied indifference.
“Once this month's exams are over, I'll update faster if I have time.”
The students around her paused.
Then someone caught on.
“What? Trình Hàm, you're Cửu Hòa?”
Sitting on a desk with her chin raised, she painted her nails and shushed them.
“Don't go spreading it around. It's only a hobby. I don't want people knowing who I am. Getting into Tsinghua or Peking University is what matters now.”
The class erupted.
“Fuck, she's amazing. Rich, smart, and talented!”
“Cửu Hòa, can I have your autograph?”
“Oh my God. I'll be bragging about this for the rest of my life!”
In my corner, I quietly put away my phone and glanced up at her.
That one look somehow touched a nerve.
She grabbed a cup from the desk and hurled it at my head.
“What are you looking at?”
My vision went dark.
When I touched my forehead, blood was running down it.
Everyone was watching.
No one spoke.
As usual, she beckoned to two other girls. Understanding at once, they dragged me into the restroom.
They held my head down in a basin until I was almost suffocating, then hauled me up.
Trình Hàm grabbed my hair. It felt as though my scalp would come off.
She sneered at my pain.
“Look at her. Like a dead dog. Hilarious.
“You piece of trash. Look at me like that again and I'll gouge your eyes out.”
Only when her anger eased did she leave with the others.
I sat on the floor, gasping.
My phone chimed in my pocket.
I opened a private message.
“You're at Thanh Thành No. 1 High School, aren't you? I found you, Cửu Hòa.”
Calmly, I logged out of my author account.
Using an alternate account, I posted a photograph of Trình Hàm on the school forum.
“Cửu Hòa herself! She's so pretty and slim in real life.”
Trình Hàm didn't know I was the author of The Judge's Case Files.
Still less did she know that the newly posted “Murder in the Rainy Night Alley” was a real case.
I had seen it all.
And the perpetrator had noticed me.
Publicly claiming to be the author was as good as putting herself in danger.
But what did that have to do with me?
Leaving the restroom, I saw several laughing students emerge from the one next door.
Behind them came a boy, his hair soaked, filthy all over.
He kept his head lowered, hiding his face.
I didn't need to guess. Like me, he was one of the school's victims.
His bully, Từ Văn Hạo, was like Trình Hàm: polished, outstanding, admired.
He even appeared in newspapers as a handsome young genius with exemplary character and grades.
He looked at me and gave a lewd smile.
“Oh. Khương Hà from Class Three.”
His eyes swept over my disheveled clothes.
Then he leaned close and whispered, “See you tonight.”
I felt sick.
The moment the final bell rang, I tried to run.
Trình Hàm caught me by the hair.
“What's the rush?” she asked with a malicious smile. “Come on. I'll show you something more fun.”
They dragged me to the back gate.
Từ Văn Hạo and his followers were waiting.
A luxury car rolled to a stop.
He got in first. Before I could call for help, someone covered my mouth and pulled me inside.
“Mr. Trần, straight to ON Bar.”
My thoughts were in chaos.
ON Bar was a playground for the rich. Supposedly, money could buy anything there.
I glimpsed handcuffs and a leather whip in their bag.
A chill ran down my spine.
Several times, I tried to jump out, but they held me back.
Just as Từ Văn Hạo began putting his hands on me, the car braked sharply.
Caught off balance, he was thrown forward.
“Fuck! What kind of driving—”
His voice changed to fear.
“Who... who are you? You're not Mr. Trần!”
In the rearview mirror, I saw a pair of cold, snakelike eyes.
Then my head grew heavier and heavier.
I lost consciousness.
When I woke, everything was white.
We were bound in a completely sealed room, wrists and ankles chained. All we could do was turn our heads.
Từ Văn Hạo and his follower Vương Hổ woke and began swearing.
“Who's there? What the hell do you want?”
Trình Hàm tried to stay calm.
“Do you want money? Don't hurt me, and my father will give you plenty.”
“Right!” Từ Văn Hạo said. “My family's rich. Name your price!”
They shouted for a long time.
No answer.
I huddled in a corner, my mind blank.
Had that killer abducted us?
Their families were wealthy. Perhaps he would release them for money.
I was an orphan with no one behind me.
What could I do?
My heart raced. I could only watch them argue and rage, all to no avail.
Three hours later, the door opened.
Someone dressed in black and wearing a mask appeared. I couldn't tell his age.
Everyone shrank back in terror.
He carried a bloodstained axe.
His voice was unexpectedly pleasant.
“Cửu Hòa. I found you.”
My head snapped up.
It was him.
Last Friday night, in heavy rain, I had been passing an alley on my way home when I saw someone in a raincoat dragging out a body.
I saw him. He saw me.
But I turned and ran.
He must only have seen my uniform.
Everyone froze.
Từ Văn Hạo reacted first, looking frantically toward Trình Hàm.
“Her! She's Cửu Hòa! She's the one you want!”
She swore, then saw the man approaching with his axe.
He bent down and gave a husky laugh.
“That night... you saw everything, didn't you? My murder scene.”
She finally broke.
“It wasn't me! I'm not Cửu Hòa! Really!”
“How can you say that?” Vương Hổ and Từ Văn Hạo cried together. “You admitted it in class!”
“The whole school knows!”
“Someone even traced Cửu Hòa to our school!”
She shook her head wildly.
“You bastards! You're making me take the fall!
“Khương Hà! You were there. I was only joking, wasn't I?”
She looked at me as if I could save her.
But there was no plea in her eyes.
Only the familiar threat.
Behind his mask, the man's gaze was dark as a venomous snake's.
“You tell me. Who is she?”
I met his eyes without changing expression.
“She's Cửu Hòa. She said so herself.”
“Ah! You bitch! You're doing this on purpose!”
The pleas gradually faded.
Silence returned to the room.
No one spoke now.
Sweat streamed from Từ Văn Hạo. At last, unable to bear it, he began crying for his mother.
I was afraid too.
But a fierce desire for revenge, and the pleasure of finally getting it, consumed my thoughts.
Nothing had ever felt so satisfying.
I don't know how long passed before Trình Hàm was dragged back.
Her upper body was soaked, as though she had been forced into a huge barrel of water.
Like a dead fish, she lay on the floor coughing up water.
The next day, while we were still half asleep, the man returned.
This time, he took Từ Văn Hạo.
I could only hear his screams fading into the distance.
An unfamiliar exhilaration rose inside me.
On the third day, it was Vương Hổ's turn.
By the fourth, hunger and dehydration had overtaken fear.
I even wanted the killer to appear sooner.
At last, my turn came.
Three days without water left me dizzy. I stumbled after him.
I had already made a plan.
Before he killed me, I would at least drag someone else down with me.
“Don't kill me. I don't know anything.
“All I know is that Trình Hàm is Cửu Hòa. A few days ago, she told me she'd seen something on her way home and used it in her novel.”
The masked man watched me with interest.
He opened another room.
After two seconds' hesitation, I staggered after him.
At the doorway, I stopped.
It looked lived-in.
Cooking equipment. Exercise gear.
And a warm yellow sofa that looked very comfortable.