Neuvillet sat on the couch, then stretched out to contemplate a few things—this case, the Wakir family case, and the mystery of this strange world.
He began talking to himself.
"Solve the Wakir family's murder… but how?! He wants me to solve it, yet I've been sent back to this era."
Neuvillet rose from the couch and continued speaking.
"So, in this era, the family isn't dead yet. They're just an ordinary family for now. The Wakir family became famous for selling weapons back then. Once I'm done with this case, I'll visit them. But are they even in the same place? Let's find out—there's nothing to lose."
He took a deep breath before speaking again.
"And the second issue—solving the mystery of this world. But the question is, how? And who is the mysterious figure who sent me here? They enhanced my intelligence and gave me incredibly dangerous abilities. What do they want from me? Do they want me to find them? Or do they want me to uncover the secrets of this world they threw me into?"
Neuvillet lay back on the couch to rest.
"I don't want to rush things. I'll let them unfold naturally until I find the first thread."
Exhausted from the long day and the meticulous investigation, Neuvillet drifted into deep sleep.
He woke up in a panic—not from a nightmare, but from realizing he was now in London Central Hospital.
He stood in the middle of the reception hall. To his left, there was a receptionist's desk, but no one was there. In front of him was a door, with strange words written on it, dripping with blood.
"Escaping from the depths of Tartarus follows ancient ways. Fight to become the Lord of Tartarus."
Neuvillet was frozen, unable to process what he was seeing. Was this reality? A dream? Or was he truly in the depths of Tartarus?
To his right, there was another door—sealed with thirty locks, one stacked upon another, bleeding profusely. A blood-stained sign was nailed onto it:
"Do you favor chains? The Revered One was punished with them in his youth. They placed each chain on a different part of his body, making him wish for death. But even Tartarus rejected him. Do you wish to share his fate?"
Neuvillet stepped closer and touched the chains. A single drop of blood dripped onto his finger.
The air around him grew heavier. A terrifying sensation crawled through his spine. He felt something approaching him—something horrific, lurking just beyond his vision.
He pulled his long white hair back and spoke into the dimly glowing light surrounded by darkness.
"What is this place? And why did I see my fate when I touched the door? It wasn't clear, but it warned me—a danger is creeping toward me from within the darkness."
Neuvillet scanned the reception hall, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His voice grew agitated.
"Is that damned bastard trying to drive me insane, or what?!"
Then, suddenly—
A man was sitting in the waiting chairs.
Dressed in formal attire, he called out to Neuvillet:
"Dear Neuvillet, how are you? I hope this world is treating you kindly."
Neuvillet froze. He couldn't move a single finger. The mysterious man placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Forgive me for scaring you, dear Neuvillet."
Then, he removed his hat.
Beneath it was a man with long white hair… but with no face.
Neuvillet stared at him, unable to speak or even move his ring finger.
The faceless man withdrew his hand, sat back down, and met Neuvillet's gaze.
"There's no need for such fear, my beautiful detective. I go by many names—Faceless, or, if you prefer, The Jester."
If ice could melt, then Neuvillet would never melt, for fear had frozen his veins solid.
The Jester continued, moving his hand in the air in a disturbingly unnatural way, as if it were broken.
"You seem confused, Neuvillet. You are astonished by two things—the nature of this place and myself. But don't worry, Neuvillet, you're a genius. You've always overcome difficult challenges.
MR Thiraxaimel, [Mar 26, 2025 at 14:43]
Also, why are you standing there, frozen like ice on an old rooftop? Sit down, dear Neuvillet."
Neuvillet, despite the fear surging through his veins, sat down opposite the mysterious jester and stared at him.
"Who are you? What is this strange, terrifying place? And how do you know me?"
The Jester let out a soft laugh, crossing one leg over the other before responding.
"Oh, Neuvillet, not everyone you question will answer. You, of all people, should know that. First, you must pressure the suspect—intimidate them—and they will throw every secret at your feet."
Neuvillet raised his right hand and spoke.
"Are you suggesting I do the same to you, Jester?"
In a blur—
The Jester appeared behind Neuvillet.
Neuvillet's mind struggled to process how this entity had moved so fast. Just a moment ago, he had been right in front of him.
The Jester let out a chilling, eerie laugh as he placed a hand on Neuvillet's shoulder and whispered near his ear:
"Such tricks won't work on the one who invented them. I am you, and you are me, Neuvillet."
Then, as suddenly as he had disappeared, the Jester returned to his seat in the blink of an eye, sitting exactly as before.
"You must hold yourself together, Neuvillet. Do not let this world devour you—like a frog swallowing a fly."
The Jester pointed to a chair beside Neuvillet.
On it lay a gun and a dagger.
"These tools will be of great use to you, Neuvillet. And be cautious in the trials to come—we never know what Tartarus has in store."
And with that—he vanished.
Neuvillet sat in stunned silence before finally grabbing the gun and dagger.
The dagger was unnervingly sharp—so sharp that a single falling leaf would be cleaved in half upon touching it.
He tucked the dagger into his coat, where a special pocket was stitched for it. The gun was secured at his belt.
As he turned to leave—
The door swung open violently.
Standing in the doorway was a giant.
Neuvillet's breath caught. Terror spread through his body.
The giant's head was covered by something resembling a bell, and he dragged a massive scythe behind him, muttering words in an unintelligible language.
Then, in an instant, the giant charged straight at Neuvillet, swinging the scythe to sever his head.
A second door burst open beside Neuvillet. He ran, grabbing whatever objects he could find to slow the giant down—beds, chairs—anything.
But the giant swung his scythe through them like they were nothing.
Neuvillet stopped, pulled out his gun, and fired a shot at the bell covering the giant's head.
The giant froze, then violently slammed his head against the wall.
Neuvillet seized the moment, rushing into a nearby office and hiding inside a wardrobe.
His breathing was shallow. His mind raced.
"How do I kill that damned thing? If stabbing it doesn't work, then I'm as good as dead."
Then—an idea.
"A gun and a dagger… this reminds me of that accursed case."
A faint smile crossed Neuvillet's lips.
"I must become an assassin—and take that wretched thing down swiftly."
The giant let out a deafening scream, smashing through the walls.
Neuvillet struck swiftly—slashing an X across the giant's stomach, causing its guts to spill out. Then, he fired three shots at the bell.
The giant roared in agony.
But before Neuvillet could react—
The giant swung his massive arm, sending Neuvillet flying.
The scythe came down to cleave him in half—
—Neuvillet woke up, drenched in sweat.
"Damn… what was all that madness? Was it just a dream, or—"
Neuvilette couldn't finish his sentence. He stood up and looked at the mirror. His gun and dagger were lying on the couch. Shocked, he muttered,
"What's going on here? It seems… I wasn't dreaming."
He glanced at the clock—it read ten o'clock. But was it morning or night? A thin ray of sunlight peeked from under the door.
Neuvilette found the situation strange. Elizabeth hadn't come to unlock his door.
MR Thiraxaimel, [Mar 26, 2025 at 14:43]
He suspected something had happened to her.
He placed a pillow over the lock and fired his gun. The pillow muffled the shot, preventing unnecessary noise and chaos in the hotel. He then rushed to Elizabeth's room and knocked, but there was no response.
Again, he fired at the lock, using the pillow to silence the shot, then kicked the door open.
And that's when the shock hit him.
Elizabeth's body was mutilated in an unspeakably gruesome manner—cut into precise squares, her head pierced by three bullets.
As Neuvilette tried to process what he was seeing, the door behind him suddenly shut.
A calm, eerie voice spoke.
"Welcome, Detective Neuvilette."