A light, very quiet voice spoke behind Neuvillette, addressing the detective.
"Hello, Detective Neuvillette."
Neuvillette turned around and saw a man aiming both a gun and a dagger at his head. He raised both hands.
The mysterious man grinned—a wide, terrifying smile—accompanied by the laugh of someone who had long lost their sanity.
"How did you like the gift I left for you, detective? I hope it was to your liking."
Neuvillette smiled back with the same cryptic grin as the man before him. The laughter of the mysterious man ceased.
"What is there to smile about in a situation like this, detective?"
Neuvillette raised two fingers—his pinky and middle finger—while letting out a sinister chuckle.
"I'm laughing at you, Alexander. You're nothing but a stupid, narcissistic scumbag. I've never seen a criminal as idiotic as you in my entire life."
When Neuvillette smiles, know that crimson or shadow will descend to watch over Eleonora.
And the man standing before Neuvillette? He was none other than the serial killer who had terrorized London for six years—Alexander Zandra.
Alexander smiled, but not just any smile—it was one of fear, the realization that his end was near.
"Your fake smile makes my skin crawl, you bastard. Who are you, detective?"
Neuvillette tilted his head slightly and let out a wicked laugh.
"I'm no one. I'm Detective Neuvillette, and I will return you to the dirt from which you were born."
The killer chuckled and stepped closer to Neuvillette.
"Big words, detective."
He paused for a moment, then pressed the barrel of his gun against Neuvillette's head before continuing.
"Do you know why I didn't let them li—"
Neuvillette cut him off abruptly.
"Because you're a nobody. A madman. A sick, twisted creature who despises women and children. Alexander, you're nothing but a whore who satisfies his desires by slaughtering innocent people. Your so-called 'help' to me is just a way for you to ensure that the title of the man who terrorized London remains yours and yours alone. You can't stand the thought of that title belonging to someone else."
Rage flickered in Alexander's eyes. The moment he attempted to shoot Neuvillette in the chest, the detective struck Alexander's leg and then his hand, knocking the dagger from his grip.
But Alexander was fast. He landed a blow to Neuvillette's stomach and quickly reached for his gun once more, aiming to fire.
Neuvillette reacted instantly, shooting Alexander in the hand, injuring him.
Then he fired at Alexander's leg.
People in the hotel's main hall had heard the gunshots, and some rushed off to alert the police.
Neuvillette fired another shot at Alexander's leg before discarding his gun. He then proceeded to beat the killer until one of his teeth was knocked out.
In a desperate move, Alexander reached into his pocket, pulling out a knife, and stabbed Neuvillette in the side of his stomach.
Neuvillette, however, grabbed Alexander's wrist, preventing him from pulling the blade out—ensuring that he wouldn't bleed out too quickly.
Then, with unrelenting fury, Neuvillette struck Alexander's face over and over until his nose was broken.
Finally, Alexander released the knife and spat blood onto Neuvillette's clothes.
He looked up at the detective, his voice hoarse and weak.
"Detective, I have one damned question for you. Who are you, really?"
Despite the horrific wounds, despite the agony coursing through his body, Neuvillette smiled. He tipped his hat and bowed slightly forward.
"You may call me…"
A brief moment of silence.
"The Jester."
Alexander's eyes widened slightly. He lifted his gaze just a little, his breath ragged as he muttered,
"What a mysterious name, detective… I'll tell you a love story that never had a happy ending."
He coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips, but he continued.
"Detective… I loved her like no other. But in return, all I saw in her eyes was hatred. So, I killed them all.
MR Thiraxaimel, [Mar 26, 2025 at 17:01]
Every woman, every child."
(He coughed again, spitting blood.)
"I dreamed of a happy life with her. Of coming home from work, seeing her greet me with a sweet smile. But she was just a whore."
Another weak cough, then he continued.
"Detective… or Jester… I've never seen you in London before. Did you crawl out of some abyss just to take me down? To unleash the fury that dwells within you?"
His weary eyes lifted toward the ceiling, filled with a fleeting longing for life.
"How beautiful death is…"
(He gripped Neuvillette's shirt.)
"Tell me, Jester… do you think I was right?"
Neuvillette pulled a dagger from his pocket and replied,
"Every man sees himself as righteous. So… there is no evil."
Alexander gave one last smile.
"It was an honor meeting you… Jester."
And with that, Neuvillette severed Alexander's head.
The police arrived, bursting through the door.
"Freeze! This is the poli—"
But the officer's words trailed off as he took in the gruesome scene before him—a massacre of blood.
Neuvillette stood up, his gaze drifting to Elizabeth, whose body had been brutally mutilated, her skull punctured by three gunshots.
Without a word, Neuvillette grabbed Alexander's headless body and his severed head, dragging them across the blood-soaked floor as he exited the hotel.
Police officers shouted after him, their guns aimed at the Jester.
Hotel guests watched in stunned horror as Neuvillette dragged Alexander's remains outside, the blood forming a crimson trail behind him.
He walked for nearly a kilometer, pulling the corpse through the streets, surrounded by onlookers and police officers keeping their weapons trained on him.
Finally, he reached the police headquarters.
There, he turned to face the crowd, lifting Alexander's severed head by the hair.
The chief of police stepped outside, his expression darkening at the sight of Neuvillette.
And then, the Jester spoke.
"This… this is what took your loved ones. This is what slaughtered your children and left them orphaned. This is what stole your wives from you and planted fear in your hearts for seven consecutive years."
Neuvillette coughed, blood spilling from his lips, before continuing.
"I, Detective Neuvillette, have shattered the legend of this damned ape with my own hands."
And then, he collapsed into his own pool of blood.
The crowd surged toward him, but the officers held them back.
When Neuvillette opened his eyes again, he was seated in a chair with a tall backrest.
In front of him stretched a long, seemingly endless table.
Surrounding the space were massive statues, sculpted in the style of ancient Greece.
Above him hung a shrouded statue, bleeding, clutching a plaque inscribed with words in the lost Etruscan language.
A voice echoed through the air.
"How are you feeling, Neuvillette?"
A man smiled at him.
"My name is… Do not forget it. It is a pleasure to meet you."