MTL NOVEL Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Lin
The sterile hum of the hospital ward hung heavy in the air, a symphony of mechanical sighs and beeps punctuating the silence.
Heartbeat monitors pulsed their rhythmic tattoo, whilst the faint clatter of a distant trolley rattled through the corridors.
Amidst it all, the patient lay still, a fragile figure tethered to life by wires and will.
Beyond the room's threshold, the door swung shut with a muted thud as Dr.Percival Grayson emerged, his white coat creased from hours of labour.
Before him stood three figures—Ch'en, Hoshiguma and Swire—each a pillar of resolve now teetering on the edge of disbelief.
"He's slipped into a short-term coma—Lethargic Stasis, if you will,"
the doctor intoned, his voice clipped yet steady, a man accustomed to delivering grim tidings.
"Fortunate, really. No vital faculties compromised. It's merely a matter of time now—nature must run its course."
With a curt nod, he turned on his heel and retreated down the hall, leaving the trio stranded in the wake of his words.
The corridor stretched before them, a bleak expanse of white tiles and flickering lights, as if the very building held its breath.
Ch'en's jaw tightened, her suspicions confirmed too late to matter. She'd marshalled the Lungmen Police Department—LPD, as the locals called it—to scour every file, every soul tied to this blasted case.
And yet, nothing. Not a whisper of evidence. The surveillance tapes were barren, the guards' tongues silent as the grave.
"Nothing was found at all," she muttered under her breath, her fist clenching until her knuckles whitened beneath her gloves.
Aak was correct; no vampire could get away with this perfectly like this.
It was a nightmare beyond reckoning.
How could one snare a shadow that shifted with the wind? Worse still, who could she trust? The thought coiled in her gut like a serpent, cold and unyielding. To voice it aloud risked sowing chaos amongst her ranks, and yet to bury it left her isolated, a solitary sentinel against an unseen foe.
She turned to Swire, her voice low and taut.
"How do we handle this now, eh? The last witness is beyond reach, and we're left twiddling our thumbs."
Swire exhaled a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of the day pressed upon her.
"Stamp it as an unknown vampire—something stronger than we reckoned, perhaps. Call it a day. This case was never going to tie itself up with a neat little bow, was it?"
Hoshiguma shifted her weight, her broad frame casting a shadow across the tiles.
"Reluctantly, I agree," she rumbled, her tone heavy with resignation.
"We're chasing ghosts here."
And so, the day guttered out, swallowed by the creeping darkness beyond the hospital's walls.
***
The following morn broke with a crisp clarity, the sort that sharpened the edges of the world.
Howard strolled towards the LPD office, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his hand—black as pitch, with a whiff of roasted bitterness that promised to jolt the senses.
The streets of Lungmen buzzed faintly, a murmur of life stirring beneath the smog-laden sky.
At the door, Camelia awaited him, her sharp eyes glinting with a familiar mischief.
"Well, well, if it isn't the hero of the hour," she quipped, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"That case of yours—closed at last. You're hitting the big leagues with the LPD now, aren't you?"
Howard chuckled, a dry, throaty sound.
"Oh, come off it, Camelia. Just doing my bit. Reckon the commission cheque's in the post, then?"
"Signed and sealed," she replied, tossing him a wink.
"You'll be sipping tea in style soon enough."
With a grin, Howard ambled towards his office, the warmth of the coffee seeping through his fingers.
The door creaked open, revealing a modest sanctum of papers and shadows. He settled into his chair, the leather groaning faintly beneath his weight, and let his gaze drift.
A musing stirred within him, unbidden yet insistent, a psychological reverie on the nature of man.
People, he mused, were creatures of stubborn constancy. Honesty—a rare bird, that. It flitted through the human soul but never nested fully.
Lies and deceit, now those were the true companions of mankind, woven into the fabric of being. Whether for good or ill, it mattered little—it was simply nature's way.
To pin one's hopes on change was the naivety of youth, a fool's errand. As a scholar of the mind, Howard knew it well: transformation was the steepest hill a soul could climb.
A slothful creature didn't spring to action with a snap of their fingers, nor did an addict cast off his chains for the good of his flesh.
Change was a fickle beast—irregular, elusive.
It might come, or it might not.
His thoughts drifted to Heixian, that wretch he'd offered a new dawn.
A chance at redemption, perhaps his own karmic penance for a life unyielding. Would the man seize it or sink back into the mire?
Time alone held the answer.
Howard leaned back, a quiet satisfaction settling over him.
The case's end pleased him—not for its closure, but for the game it allowed him to play. His gift, wielded in reverse, was a subtle marvel.
By planting crumbs of misdirection, he could gauge who might see through his veil, solving the crimes he himself had spun.
It was, in a way, a pseudo-clairvoyance—a glimpse into fates he could nudge and twist.
Aak had sniffed it out, clever doctor that he was, and Ch'en's doubts would only deepen now.
The truth would grow ever more slippery, a phantom dancing just beyond their grasp. Howard's lips curled faintly.
All that remained was the next move.
A meeting with another Lungmen operator beckoned.
He drained his coffee; the bitter dregs were a fitting prelude to the schemes ahead.
***
Lungmen, a city of towering ambition and buried secrets.
Beneath its neon glow and orderly streets lay a tangled web of crime, power, and unseen forces shaping its destiny.
Few understood this better than Lin Yuhsia—daughter of the Rat King, heir to an empire of shadows, and yet, to the public, the esteemed President of the Lungmen Young Entrepreneurs' Association.
She was a paradox. Ruthless, yet pragmatic. Cunning, yet devoted to the city she called home. Some feared her, some respected her, and a select few knew better than to cross her.
Howard wasn't one of them.
The cab ride to Lungmen Union University was uneventful.
A sprawling campus, a symbol of the city's progress, teeming with students too caught up in their future to realise whose hands their present belonged to.
Howard moved through the crowd with practiced ease, scanning faces, seeking directions.
"Professor Lin?" he asked a passing faculty member.
"You're in luck," came the reply.
"She's in the middle of a lecture. Room 402."
Lady Luck had smiled upon him. Or maybe she was setting him up for the fall.
Howard reached the lecture hall and stopped just outside, observing.
Lin Yuhsia stood at the front, effortlessly commanding the room—not with volume, but with presence.
Dressed in crisp formal attire, she cut an image of discipline and elegance, her long purple hair flowing, tied, allowing one long strand on her shoulders like silk.
Her voice was smooth, deliberate, every word measured, like someone who understood the weight of influence.
As a player, he knew her better than many.
But seeing her in person, Howard understood not even the game could capture her full beauty.
She wasn't just a woman of power.
She was a woman who had built her power herself.
The lecture ended. Students filtered out in waves, exchanging notes and laughter, oblivious to the tension Howard carried with him.
Inside, Lin was packing up her things. She hadn't noticed him yet.
Now or never.
Howard stepped inside, adjusting his cuffs, keeping his approach smooth. Not too fast. Not too slow.
"Professor Lin," he said, his tone measured. Not too eager. Not too distant.
"A moment of your time?"
She didn't turn.
"If you're looking for career advice, I'm not the right person."
Howard smirked.
"I was thinking of something a little different. A conversation. No career advice necessary."
Lin placed the last of her materials into her bag.
"Then you can make an appointment at the Young Entrepreneurs' Association. My secretary is quite efficient."
She started toward the door.
Howard let her take two steps before he said the word.
"Utopia."
Lin froze.
It was only a heartbeat. A second of stillness. But for someone like her—a woman always in control—that single pause spoke volumes.
Howard had barely begun to register her reaction before the air crystallised.
A blade, sharp and translucent as glass, rested against his throat, catching the dim university light in an unnatural shimmer.
Howard didn't flinch.
He had expected something like this.
She didn't speak immediately. She didn't need to.
The silence alone carried the weight of an unspoken threat.
Then, her voice—calm, unreadable.
"Where did you hear that word?"
Howard smiled, as if the blade weren't there. As if he weren't standing on the edge of something much larger than himself.
"Maybe we should talk somewhere more private," he suggested.
The blade didn't waver. Lin's gaze didn't soften.
But after a long moment, she did something far more terrifying than attacking.
She lowered her art creation.
"Follow me," she said.
And with that, she walked away.
Howard exhaled slowly, adjusting his collar where the crystal edge had rested.
Then, without hesitation, he followed.
Because now he knew.
Lin Yuhsia knew exactly what "Utopia" was.
It would now be easy to talk to her.