Neuvillette was tense as he looked at the old buildings.
He had some knowledge about old London and how it appeared in pictures.
But he never expected that one day he would find himself there in such a terrifying way—just thinking about it was unsettling.
He was still in shock when, in the middle of the road, a man on a speeding horse nearly collided with him, stopping just in time.
The man got down from his carriage, furious, and shouted at Neuvillette:
"What's wrong with you, you fool? Don't stand in the middle of the road unless you want to get yourself killed!"
Neuvillette looked at the man in confusion, noticing that his clothes were old-fashioned.
Strangely, the man was also examining Neuvillette from head to toe, scrutinizing his attire, which clearly did not belong to this era.
Neuvillette smirked sarcastically and said:
"What's the matter? Is this the first time you've seen someone wearing clothes?"
The man placed a hand on his head, looking slightly embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, sir, but your clothes are strange… almost like they belong to some modern city or something."
Neuvillette smiled, about to respond, when suddenly, the sound of gunfire rang out.
He turned in the direction of the shots—toward a hotel—where loud screams echoed.
Neuvillette immediately ran toward the source of the gunfire. When he arrived at the hotel's main hall, he found a woman shot dead, a bullet hole in her head. A strange mark was on her chest, but Neuvillette did not notice it at first.
As he examined the scene, trying to investigate, the police arrived and aimed their weapons at him.
One officer shouted:
"Hey, don't move! Not even an inch, or I'll put a bullet in your head!"
Neuvillette turned toward the officers, raising both hands in surrender.
"I'm with you. I'm a detective—Neuvillette."
One officer, still aiming his gun, demanded:
"Let me see your badge."
Neuvillette slowly raised his right hand while reaching into his pocket with the other to retrieve his investigator's ID.
The officer took the ID, examined it, then smiled—an unsettling, strange smile.
"Arrest him."
Neuvillette was stunned. It was as if he had unknowingly signed his own death sentence through a series of unfortunate actions.
One of the officers handcuffed him and led him out of the hotel. They put him in a carriage bound for the main police station in London.
Through the carriage window, Neuvillette looked around, his mind racing. He was afraid, anxious—as if caught in an endless loop of events.
"I made a stupid mistake. First, I walked right into a crime scene. Second, I handed over an ID that belongs to a future era. They must think it's fake or something."
When they arrived, the officers dragged Neuvillette out of the carriage, his hands and feet shackled with iron cuffs.
A massive crowd had gathered outside the station, an unsettling, enraged mob that looked as if they wanted to devour him alive.
Inside, the chief of police in London, Royce Caton, stood before the people, giving a passionate speech, filled with pride and triumph.
"Welcome, men and women of London! I bring you great news! The man who has terrorized our city for the last six years has finally been captured! Today, we will execute him before you all—as justice for the innocent women and children he has mercilessly slaughtered!"
The crowd erupted in a frenzy, shouting cries of vengeance:
"You must cut him up as he did to my wife!"
"Skin this bastard alive, just like he did to my children!"
"Burn him in flames, as he burned my innocent babies!"
Neuvillette listened to their hateful words, pressing his fingers against his face. He was trapped in a nightmarish situation—one even a crazed killer wouldn't envy.
He spoke to himself in frustration:
"I've put myself in a strange place and time. How did I get here? And who is that caller? Why have I been thrown into this era of bloodshed and brutal killings? I've truly doomed myself."
Just then, the voice of the mysterious person who had contacted him on the phone spoke again:
"Well, well… things aren't looking too good for you, are they? Hahahaha! But don't worry—you have two missions in this world. Solve the murder case of the Walker family, and—"
Neuvillette interrupted, his voice filled with fury:
"And the other one? Finding you and putting a bullet in your skull, you filthy bastard!"
The mysterious man only chuckled.
"No need for all that anger, my friend! But don't worry—I'll get you out of this unexpected mess. A detective of your caliber shouldn't be in such trouble, should he?"
Suddenly, an excruciating headache struck Neuvillette.
It felt as if his head was being crushed by a massive elephant—an unbearable pain.
But as the pain faded, Neuvillette felt something change. His intelligence had increased, and he had gained a new ability.
The mysterious man spoke again, with a light chuckle:
"I've granted you a power called Sovereign's Technique: Control and Alter Fate. With this, you can change everything happening here. The rest is up to you, Detective."
Neuvillette clenched his fists in rage and shouted:
"You bastard! Where are you?! Answer my questions instead of running away like a whore!"
He gripped the iron bars of his cell, trying to get a better look outside.
At that moment, a police officer entered and shoved Neuvillette's hands away from the bars.
But something strange happened.
Neuvillette saw the officer's fate—he was going to die in exactly five minutes.
A slight smirk formed on Neuvillette's lips. A crimson idea sparked in his sharp blue eyes.
The officer, noticing his expression, grew angry and dragged him out of the cell, hitting him hard on the head.
Outside, the enraged mob continued to jeer. Some cursed at him, others threw rotten pig heads at him. One person even tried to climb onto the execution platform to attack Neuvillette but was held back by the police.
Meanwhile, Chief Royce Caton spoke about the horrific crimes committed by the unknown murderer—crimes now falsely pinned on Neuvillette.
Then, Neuvillette spoke a single sentence that silenced the entire crowd, despite its simplicity.
"I am not the killer."
A brief moment of quiet.
Then he continued, his voice filled with unwavering confidence:
"And I will prove it to you all in exactly two minutes."
Neuvillette then pointed at the officer who had taken him out of his cell.
The officer tried to strike him, but Chief Royce stopped him.
Royce then glared at both the officer and Neuvillette before leaning on the podium and speaking in a calm yet threatening tone:
"And if you're lying… what do you think we should do to you?"
Neuvillette smiled lightly and replied:
"If I'm lying, I will throw myself into this raging crowd and let them kill me in whatever way they see fit."
Royce was shocked as he looked into Neuvillette's eyes.
"Very well, let's see. But if nothing happens, your death will be one of the most horrific events recorded in history."
After those two minutes passed, nothing happened. The officer laughed and began walking toward Neuvillette to push him toward the terrifying crowd. He spoke with a devilish grin:
"It seems today is not your lucky day, haha—"
He didn't finish his sentence before a bullet from a rifle tore through his skull, exploding his head into pieces. His body collapsed to the ground, headless, as fragments of his skull and brain splattered onto the horrified crowd.
Panic erupted. The people screamed and scattered in terror. Royce quickly pulled Neuvillette back inside the police station while officers dragged their fallen comrade's body away.
Neuvillette sat on a chair, his wrists still bound in iron cuffs, facing Captain Royce's desk. Royce sat down in his tall-backed chair, veins of rage pulsing through his forehead.
"How the hell did you know this would happen? This is beyond strange, you realize that, don't you? And I suspect the answer is right on the tip of your tongue."
Neuvillette smirked, though his smile was faint, almost imperceptible.
"Just a simple prediction… with a bit of luck."
Royce slammed his fist onto the desk so hard that the papers on top shook violently. He grabbed Neuvillette's collar, pulling him close.
"You bastard, are you trying to act smart with me? Luck? A prediction? Speak clearly, damn you!"
Neuvillette leaned back slightly, pulling away from Royce's grip.
"Tell me, Captain, why do you think this man killed a police officer when all his previous victims were women and children? Why break his pattern? Why do something so reckless?"
The air in the room grew heavy. The conversation shifted from heated argument to chilling silence. The tension was finally broken by a female voice behind Neuvillette.
"What he's saying is true, Captain Royce."
The female officer stepped forward, placing her hand on the desk as she continued.
"For the past six years, this murderer has only targeted women and children. He never once harmed a police officer or even a man. And yet, today, he chose to kill a policeman for no apparent reason, despite having a perfect opportunity to frame someone else instead."
Neuvillette's voice dropped to a darker, more analytical tone.
"This is what we call delusions of grandeur."
Captain Royce raised an eyebrow. He folded his arms, leaning slightly forward.
"Delusions of grandeur? What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Some criminals take great pride in their work," Neuvillette explained. "They see their crimes as achievements. Some even keep trophies—body parts, clothing, personal items—as proof of their 'greatness.' They want to be the sole holder of their terrifying legacy. They crave infamy and refuse to let anyone else take their title, even if that person were their own blood relative."
Royce stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So, you're saying this man is a narcissist who can't stand the idea of losing his reputation?"
Neuvillette responded with unwavering confidence.
"Exactly, Captain."
The female officer nodded in agreement.
Neuvillette glanced down at his shackled wrists and smirked faintly before speaking.
"Remove these cuffs, and I'll bring you this killer myself. I won't even bother learning his damn name."
Royce stared at him for a moment before finally speaking.
"Fine. I'll give you this case. If you succeed, I'll make you Chief Investigator. But if you fail, you'll crawl into the depths of hell on your hands and knees."
Neuvillette raised both hands, grinning.
"Sounds fair, Captain. I'll bring his head straight to your doorstep."
Royce studied him carefully. A strange, unreadable man sat before him. Finally, he placed his hands on the desk and spoke.
"We'll see about that, detective. You'll also have Officer Elizabeth accompany you on this case… and keep an eye on you."
Neuvillette nodded. "Fine by me."
Captain Royce unlocked the cuffs and gestured toward him.
"Your investigation starts tomorrow. You'll be staying at the hotel. But before you leave, you should know… they call this killer 'The Vein Cutter.'"
A flicker of shock passed through Neuvillette's expression. He clenched his hands slightly, then smiled faintly.
As he was about to exit the station with Officer Elizabeth, Royce called after him.
"Before you go, tell me… what's your name?"
Neuvillette turned his head slightly, answering without hesitation.
"I am Detective Neuvillette. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Captain Royce."
With that, he walked out alongside Elizabeth. As they strolled through the dimly lit streets, he glanced at her.
"Thank you. I didn't expect anyone in the force to take my side. But I suppose even in a pile of hay, there's always a needle of goodness somewhere."
Elizabeth smiled warmly.
"No need to thank me. Justice must be upheld, and we can't execute people without solid proof."
Neuvillette gazed up at the sky, where the sun was setting in a cascade of orange and crimson.
"What a terrifying yet beautiful day."
After half an hour, they arrived at the hotel. Neuvillette walked toward his assigned room on the fourth floor. Just before he closed the door, Elizabeth spoke.
"I'll be staying in the room across from you. As a precaution, your room has no windows to prevent any attempts at escape. I'll also be locking your door with a special key. If you need anything, just knock on the wall, and I'll respond. Understood?"
Neuvillette stood still for a moment before offering his usual fake smile.
"Crystal clear, Officer. Good night."
He shut the door, walked over to the couch, and sat down, staring at the ceiling. Shadows of dark, cryptic thoughts crept into his mind.
'It seems I'm making progress. I need to establish myself properly in this world, rebuild my reputation, and only then can I start investigating the truth… starting with the case of the Walker family.'
Mission: Capture 'The Vein Cutter.'