Arknight : The Rise of The Grand Detective

The air inside the room was stale.

The fluorescent light above flickered slightly, humming like an insect caught in a web.

Two figures sat across from each other.

One, a woman with long green hair, a singular curved horn, and the disciplined yet casual attire of the LPD.

Hoshiguma. Her presence was like a mountain—imposing, unmoving.

The other, a man chained to the steel table.

His blue shirt was drenched in dried blood, his knuckles white from the way his fingers trembled against the metal surface. Heixian.

BANG!

The table shook as Hoshiguma's fist slammed down.

Her eyes were sharp, piercing.

"You're wasting my time," she stated, her voice even, yet carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much to be patient.

Heixian barely flinched.

He stared past her—past the walls, past the room—his mind seemingly drifting somewhere far, far away.

Hoshiguma exhaled through her nose. She circled behind him, her presence looming.

"You don't have to tell me everything. I just need a description," she said.

No answer.

Heixian's head drooped lower, his breath ragged. It was as if he hadn't heard her.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

That wasn't fear. It was something worse.

"Why aren't you talking?" she asked again, this time slower.

Heixian's lips moved—only a whisper, barely audible.

"You... you wouldn't understand."

Hoshiguma's grip on the chair tightened.

Then—

The chains rattled violently.

Heixian jerked upright, eyes wide, face twisted in raw terror.

"They wouldn't understand," he mumbled again, his voice higher now, panicked.

His gaze snapped toward the two-way mirror on his right.

His pupils were blown wide, his breath coming in frantic bursts.

He knew. He knew people were watching from the other side.

"They can't stop it," he whispered. His whole body was trembling now.

"They can't stop that thing."

Silence.

His head lowered, fingers curling into his hair, gripping tight enough to rip strands out. His body shook.

"I don't wanna die," he whimpered, voice breaking.

"I don't wanna die."

Tears hit the table, spreading into tiny dots.

Hoshiguma watched in silence.

The way his body curled in on itself. The way his nails dug into his scalp.

The way his voice cracked, repeating the same desperate words— I don't wanna die.

She had interrogated criminals before—thieves, murderers, gangsters hardened by Lungmen's underbelly.

She had seen men break, seen them cry, beg, scream.

This was something else.

This wasn't the fear of punishment.

This was the fear of something else entirely.

She let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders.

No point pushing too hard. If she applied too much pressure, he'd shatter completely.

"…Even a little bit," she murmured.

"Just give me something.

A description."

For a long moment, there was no answer.

Then Heixian's bloodshot eyes lifted toward her. His lips quivered, struggling to form words.

He swallowed thickly.

"…A coat," he whispered. "He wore a coat."

Nothing more.

His gaze slipped away from her as if something had taken root in his mind—something far away, something he could still see.

Hoshiguma didn't push further. She exhaled, glancing toward the two-way mirror.

Then, wordlessly, she turned and stepped out of the room.

***

The door clicked shut behind her, cutting off the interrogation room's dim light.

Ch'en stood with arms crossed, her gaze still locked on the man behind the glass. Swire leaned against the wall, arms folded, brows furrowed.

"…That was intense," Swire muttered.

Ch'en let out a breath, rubbing her temple.

"That's not just fear. That man is broken."

"Yeah," Swire said, shifting her weight.

"But broken by what?"

Silence stretched between them.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Finally, Ch'en pushed off the wall.

"We'll pick this up tomorrow," she decided.

"It's too late to get anything else out of him tonight."

Swire scoffed lightly, but she didn't argue.

"Fine. Let's hope he's still sane enough to talk by then."

The two of them walked out, leaving behind the dimly lit room.

Behind the glass, Heixian sat in silence.

His hands trembled against the table.

His bloodshot eyes stayed locked on the mirror—his reflection.

Or, perhaps, the thing he thought he saw behind it.

***

The rain was relentless.

The neon glow of Lungmen's skyline flickered through the downpour, painting the wet pavement in distorted colors.

Inside a dimly lit office, a single lamp flickered.

The light cast long, crawling shadows across scattered files and open screens.

Aak leaned back in his chair, rolling a cigarette between his fingers.

His sharp feline ears twitched at the distant sound of thunder.

Aak was someone who was born in the underworld.

He had seen his fair share of corpses.

But this case?

This case was different.

The files splayed across his desk were filled with reports, autopsies, forensic analysis.

A normal doctor would've found them gruesome—disturbing, and impossible to understand.

To Aak, they were just puzzles waiting to be solved.

He flicked through the blood analysis report again. DNA samples found at the scene—each from different species. That was expected. What wasn't expected was the flesh.

Multiple samples. Mixed together.

That wasn't normal.

That wasn't possible.

Not for an ordinary vampire.

Originium Arts could manipulate blood, sure. The more advanced ones could use it to manipulate other people bloods. But even the strongest Vampires couldn't create flesh.

His tail flicked once as he clicked his tongue.

Something was wrong here.

Aak reached for a worn leather notebook sitting beside the monitor.

He flipped through it, fingers skimming over yellowed pages.

His father's research.

Old medical records. Notes on Originium. Handwritten theories on Lungmen underworld drugs.

And there it was.

A passage on Utopia.

It wasn't an instant killer. It was a slow-acting drug, designed to create dependence over time.

It worked in the bloodstream, not outside of it.

So why had the autopsy revealed traces of the drug outside the organs?

Why had the victims suffocated instantly?

His golden eyes narrowed.

His fingers skimmed over another report—bone structure analysis.

There were discrepancies.

Small, almost imperceptible shifts. Organs that weren't quite aligned right. Bones that were slightly malformed. Like they had been reshaped.

Aak's fingers twitched.

The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the window. A crack of lightning split the sky.

His ears twitched.

A sinking feeling curled in his gut.

Slowly, he stood, walking toward a nearby bookshelf.

His fingers ghosted over the spines of old texts—medical journals, pathology reports, criminal records.

Then, he found it.

A book on Terra's myths.

He pulled it free, flipping through the pages. His eyes darted over ancient folktales—stories of creatures that lurked in the dark, forgotten horrors erased from history.

Then—

His breath hitched.

His hand tightened around the page.

It.

His tail bristled slightly.

Aak had seen a lot in his life. He had dealt with gangs, illegal surgeries, life-and-death situations that most people wouldn't even dream of.

But this?

This wasn't just some murderer.

This wasn't just some elite assassin settling a grudge.

His grip tightened on his phone.

If he was right—

Something terrible is happening in Lungmen.

The rain roared outside. Thunder cracked through the sky.

Somewhere in the distance, something watched