MTL NOVEL Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Conclusion.
The rain hammered the rooftop, a relentless drumbeat that swallowed the hum of the city sprawled below.
Water sluiced off the edges, glistening in the faint sodium glow of distant streetlights.
A bitter wind sliced through the night, tugging at my clothes, chilling the marrow in my bones.
There, amidst the downpour, a man stood.
His black overcoat clung to him, heavy with rain, the collar turned up against the storm. In one hand, he gripped a battered umbrella, its ribs straining against the gusts.
In the other, a cigarette glowed faintly, its ember a defiant speck of warmth.
He exhaled, and the smoke spiraled upward, dissolving into the deluge like a ghost slipping free.
I watched him from the shadowed corner of the roof, my breath fogging in the cold.
I hate smart people. Or rather, talented people.
They're a mirror held up to your own inadequacy, reflecting every crack and flaw you try to bury.
They make you realize how worthless you can be—how small, how insignificant.
I was never that smart. Never the prodigy who could unravel a calculus knot in seconds or sketch blueprints for machines that'd redefine the century.
My only spark, the only brightness I could claim, was my knack for reading a person.
Peeling back their masks, glimpsing the gears grinding beneath their skin. A simple major , really, next to the titans who define the world with their minds.
Compared to them, I was a pebble lost in the endless stretch of sand. A speck of grit beneath their boots.
A puff of smoke escaped my lips, bitter and acrid, mingling with the rain as I fixed my gaze on Aak.
He was in his room, swiping through books.
He had most likely found out something.
Water dripped from the umbrella's edge, a steady patter against the concrete.
He was a smart one. Brilliant, even. The game made damn sure to flaunt it.
An underworld physician who carried on his father's legacy, he was so skilled that Lee had to hire him.
My facade was a house of cards, trembling in the wind, and he'd topple it with a single glance.
Those corpses I'd left behind—despite my attempts of disguising to hide all my traces. As my abilities told me, I knew it would not be flawless.
But when a mind like Aak's took a scalpel to them, when he traced the cuts, the blood, the inconsistencies, the truth would blaze through like a spotlight on a darkened stage.
Vampires, undocumented and wild as they were, couldn't account for this chaos.
Too sloppy, too clean . No fangs claws and even the flesh Cocons I made could excuse the mess I'd made.
'Well, whatever,' I thought, flicking the cigarette into the rain. It hissed as it died, swallowed by a puddle.
'It's not like any of them will believe anyone after this.'
My boots scraped against the wet concrete as I turned from the roof's edge, the sound swallowed by the storm.
I headed for the stairwell, its rusted door creaking as I shoved it open. T
he shadows inside welcomed me, cold and damp.
This was about to be one hell of a chaotic week.
***
The clock struck the dead of midnight, its faint chime lost in the stillness of Ch'en's apartment.
She was deep in sleep, tangled in sweat-damp sheets, when the phone erupted—a shrill, insistent scream that clawed her awake.
Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion, the room a blur of darkness save for the faint silver of moonlight seeping through the blinds.
"Hnngh…" A groan rumbled in her throat as she shifted, the mattress creaking beneath her.
Her hand flailed blindly across the bedside table, knocking over a glass—water splashed, cold against her fingers—before finally grasping the buzzing phone.
She dragged it closer, squinting at the screen through bleary eyes.
Unknown number.
"…"
The digits stared back at her, unfamiliar, menacing in their anonymity.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating. Who'd dare call at this hour?
She pressed it to her ear, the plastic cool against her skin.
"Hello?" Her voice rasped, thick with the dregs of sleep.
"Ch'en, it's Aak." His voice crackled through, low and urgent.
"Sorry for the late hour, but it's an emergency."
Her chest tightened. She sat up fully, the sheets pooling around her waist.
"I understand," she muttered, reaching for the lamp.
Her fingers fumbled with the switch, and a soft amber glow flooded the room, casting long shadows across the walls. "What's going on?"
A pause lingered on the line, heavy as lead.
"Did the person you interrogated say anything?"
Ch'en rubbed her temple, the memory flickering back.
"Not much. Just ramblings. Said they wore a coat—a black one, I think. And something about 'it would come for them.' They were terrified, but it didn't make sense."
"…"
The silence stretched, taut and suffocating.
Her grip on the phone tightened, knuckles whitening.
"That's why they were scared," Aak said at last, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as if the walls might hear.
Her brow furrowed, a chill prickling her spine.
"What do you mean?"
"We're dealing with a monster, Ch'en. Something out of myth." He paused, letting the weight sink in.
"A changeling."
The word jolted her like a live wire. She bolted upright, the phone nearly slipping from her grasp.
"A changeling?" Her voice sharpened, sleep burned away by a surge of adrenaline.
"Yeah." Aak's tone grew graver, threaded with something like dread.
"I've been sifting through the victims—hours over those bodies. Multiple DNAs through out the corpses, blood types that don't match, patterns that defy logic and flesh manipulation . Only one species can do that."
Her breath hitched. The room seemed to shrink, the shadows deepening, creeping closer.
"A perfect monster," he went on, his words slow, deliberate, as if testing the air for danger.
"It can be anyone. Anyone at all. Even now, talking to you—it's a risk. It could be listening."
"…"
Her heart slammed against her ribs, a frantic Ba… Thump! Ba… Thump! that echoed in her skull.
Her eyes darted to the window, where rain streaked the glass like claw marks. The blinds rattled faintly—wind, or something else?
A changeling. Anyone. Anywhere.
She threw the covers aside, the fabric whispering against her skin as she swung her legs over the bed's edge.
Her bare feet hit the hardwood, icy and unforgiving. "I've got to go," she rasped, the phone tumbling from her hand, clattering onto the mattress.
"Ch'en? Ch'en!" Aak's voice buzzed faintly from the speaker, but she was already moving.
Her hands shook as she snatched her coat and police shirt from the chair, the leather cold and slick in her grip.
She jammed her feet into her boots, laces slapping against the floor—tying them would take too long. Every second felt like a noose tightening.
"Haa… Haa…" Her breath came in ragged bursts, fogging in the chill of the room.
No time. No time.
Her pulse roared, a deafening Ba… Thump! Ba… Thump! that drowned out the storm.
She lunged for the door, her shoulder slamming against the frame as she stumbled into the hall.
The wood groaned, the sound swallowed by the thunder rumbling outside.
A perfect monster.
It could be him. It could be her neighbor. It could be the shadow she swore just shifted at the stairwell's end.
"Haa… Haa… Haa…" Her lungs burned, each gasp a shard of glass in her throat. She didn't stop.
Before it was too late for him.
***
The jail cell stank of rust and sweat, a concrete tomb buried deep within the police station's bowels.
Heixian sprawled across the thin mattress, his bloodied clothes clinging to his skin—stiff with dried crimson, unchanged since they'd dragged him in.
The fabric chafed against his raw flesh, but that wasn't what kept him from being calm.
His heart thundered, a relentless
Ba… Thump! Ba… Thump!
The pounding in his ears, so loud it drowned out the drip of a leaking pipe somewhere in the dark.
His eyes darted, unfocused, tracing cracks in the wall that seemed to writhe like veins.
A shadow shifted beyond the bars, and his breath hitched—a policeman, boots clacking against the stone floor, approaching his cell.
Another interrogation? Another fist to his already bruised jaw?
He braced himself, muscles coiling, but then the air thickened, heavy with something wrong, something alive.
The guard stepped inside, the cell door clanging shut with a finality that echoed in his bones.
Too late, he saw it—the familiar glint in those eyes, the tilt of that jaw. Howard. Not a guard.
Howard.
Panic clawed up his throat, and he scrambled back on the bed, the springs shrieking beneath him.
A scream tore from his lungs, raw and jagged, bouncing off the walls
"No! No!"
Howard only raised a finger to his lips, a slow, deliberate shhh that sliced through the noise like a blade.
"Quiet now," he murmured, his voice smooth as oil, laced with a weariness that chilled more than any shout.
"Took me long enough to get here. Surprised you didn't do anything stupid."
Heixian's chest heaved, sweat stinging his eyes, mingling with the wiry tears streaking his dirt-smeared face.
"I said nothing!" he choked out, voice cracking, desperate.
"I swear—nothing—I promise!"
Howard's lips curled into a smile, thin and sharp, a predator's grin.
"I know,"
he said softly, almost tenderly.
"I'm here to offer you redemption. A new life."
The words dangled like a lifeline, but Heixian's sobs only deepened, his trembling hands clawing at the mattress as he begged,
"Please, please…" The pleas dissolved into whimpers, his mind a storm of terror and hope, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Howard's smile faded, his patience thinning, and he reached out—fingers brushing Heixian's forehead, cold as death.
The touch was electric, a jolt that silenced the screams mid-breath, snuffing them out like a candle in a gale.
Heixian's body went slack, eyes wide and glassy, staring at nothing as Howard eased him back onto the bed, arranging him like a doll.
"What you do now is entirely up to you."
With those last words the shadows in the cell thickened, pooling around Howard's feet, swallowing the faint light as he slipped out, the door creaking shut behind him.
Darkness devoured everything, leaving only the echo of that final, broken sob.