Detective Aizen leaned back in his chair, staring at the crime scene photos spread across his desk. Another Justic3 killing. Another name tagged in blood.
But this time, something was different.
The killer had turned himself in.
Aizen's grip tightened around the report in his hands. This man wasn't like the others—he hadn't disappeared into the night or left behind a trail of unanswered questions. No, he had walked straight into a police station, confessed to the murder, and then, before anyone could react, attempted to end his own life.
If not for a sharp-eyed officer catching the movement in time, the case would have died with him.
Why?
Aizen exhaled, pushing himself up from his desk. His mind raced with possibilities. The Justic3 killings had always been precise, controlled. Each victim had a criminal past—rapists, traffickers, corrupt officials. And now, for the first time, they had a suspect in custody.
But something didn't sit right.
This wasn't a mistake. It was intentional.
Aizen adjusted his tie and headed toward the interrogation rooms. He needed answers.
Across the city, Nachar sat in his dimly lit room, staring at his phone.
"Boss, it's done. He turned himself in."
Kuno's message sat on the screen, waiting for a reply.
Nachar's fingers hovered over the keyboard. His plan was in motion. Viper had carried out his orders, left the Justic3 mark, and willingly given himself up. Now, the police would be thrown into chaos. They'd believe Justic3 was an organization, not a single entity.
That was the idea, anyway.
But then why did he feel this unease creeping into his chest?
Nachar leaned back against his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Viper was dead already—he just didn't know it yet. Soon, he would take his own life, as planned. There would be no loose ends, no trail leading back to Nachar.
It was necessary.
"They're all criminals."
"Their lives mean nothing."
"This is for justice."
Then why did it feel like something was off?
Nachar clenched his jaw, shutting his eyes for a moment. He couldn't afford to waver now. This was the only way to cleanse the world of its filth. People like Aizen would never understand. They played by rules that protected the corrupt.
What he was doing—what Justic3 was doing—was true justice.
Nachar exhaled sharply, typing out his reply to Kuno.
"Good. Keep your eyes on the situation. Let me know the moment he follows through."
He hit send. No turning back.
Aizen arrived at the holding cells, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway.
Detective Soma was already waiting outside the interrogation room. "Sir, he's refusing to talk. Won't give a name, won't ask for a lawyer. He just sits there."
Aizen glanced through the one-way glass.
The man was motionless, hands resting on the table, eyes fixed on the floor. No panic. No fear.
Just… acceptance.
Aizen folded his arms. "Have we checked his prints?"
"Yeah. Nothing. No records, no ID. It's like he never existed."
Aizen narrowed his eyes. "Then he's either extremely careful, or someone wiped his past."
Soma hesitated. "Sir… what if Justic3 isn't a person, but a group?"
Aizen remained silent. He had considered the possibility before, but this confirmed it. No single person could pull off this level of coordination. The killings were too widespread, too precise.
And now, they had a suspect who looked less like a killer and more like a soldier.
"Bring me inside," Aizen said.
Soma nodded, unlocking the door.
The moment Aizen stepped in, the suspect lifted his gaze. A faint, almost knowing smile tugged at his lips.
Aizen sat across from him, setting a folder on the table. "You know why you're here."
Silence.
"You killed a man. Carved Justic3's name into the wall. Then you walked straight into our hands." Aizen leaned forward. "That wasn't an accident."
Still, nothing.
Aizen studied him carefully. There was something eerily calm about this man, as if he had already accepted his fate.
"Why?" Aizen thought. "What are you waiting for?"
"Tell me…" Aizen said, lowering his voice. "Was this your choice?"
For the first time, a flicker of emotion passed over the man's face.
Hesitation.
Aizen smirked. There it was. A crack.
"You think you're part of something greater," he continued. "That this is justice. But you're just another disposable piece, aren't you?"
The suspect's hands curled into fists under the table.
Aizen pressed on. "You were meant to die, weren't you?"
No response.
But Aizen could feel it now. The tension in the air. The silent war happening inside this man's head.
This wasn't just a fanatic. This was someone following orders.
Aizen's eyes narrowed. "You're not the first, are you?"
Still nothing. But the man's breathing had changed. A slight tremor in his fingers.
Aizen leaned back, exhaling slowly. "You're not going to last long in there," he said casually. "Even if you don't talk, we'll find the others. It's only a matter of time."
The man said nothing, but his expression had shifted.
Aizen had planted the seed.
Now, he just had to wait.
Nachar lay awake that night, staring at his phone.
"No updates yet, Boss. He's still alive."
Why was he still alive?
Nachar tapped his fingers against the mattress. Viper was supposed to take his own life immediately. That was the plan.
Had something changed?
He turned onto his side, gripping his phone tighter. If Viper hesitated for too long, the police might get something out of him.
That couldn't happen.
Nachar clenched his jaw.
"Justice comes at a cost."
"No loose ends."
He took a deep breath and texted Kuno.
"If he doesn't do it soon, we'll have to make sure he does."
He hit send, his fingers tightening around the device.
It had to be done.
For justice.
For the future.
For the world he was trying to create.
Even if, deep down, he wasn't sure if he believed it anymore.