Late at night, the streets of Sunset Village were eerily silent. The outlines of the distant houses were blurred in the gray moonlight, with only the occasional sound of the wind rustling through the treetops breaking the stillness. The village seemed almost lifeless, as if the very earth itself held its breath in anticipation.
"Is this the place where the disappearance happened?" Xen's voice cut through the quiet, his calm tone belying the rising tension in the air.
The officer nodded, casting a glance at the small house in front of them. "Yes, this is where Lynn Walton was last seen. It's the sixth disappearance in the past two months."
Xen took in the sight of the house, his gaze moving over the crumbling stonework, the chipped wooden door, and the overgrown garden. It felt like something was hidden just beneath the surface—a dark secret that no one was willing to acknowledge. His instincts told him that the house was more than just the location of a crime—it was a place that might hold answers, answers that were already beginning to form in his mind.
"Tell me everything you know," Xen said, his eyes narrowing. He had already processed most of the information from the officers, but there was something here that didn't sit right with him. He needed more.
The officer, an older man with graying hair and a weathered face, shifted uneasily. "Lynn Walton was last seen walking home from the market. Neighbors reported seeing her leave, but then… nothing. No one heard anything, no signs of a struggle. It's as if she vanished into thin air."
Xen's eyes flicked to the ground, then to the surrounding area. "Did she say anything strange the night before? Any odd behaviors or signs of distress?"
The officer hesitated, then nodded. "Actually, yes. She mentioned feeling paranoid, like someone was watching her. But there was no one around. Her neighbors thought she was just imagining things."
"Paranoid, huh?" Xen mused, his fingers tapping gently on the edge of his notebook. "That's consistent with the symptoms of a mimic."
"A mimic?" The officer blinked in confusion.
"A mimic is a type of psychological imprint—something that makes its victims feel like they're being copied or observed by an invisible entity," Xen explained, his voice steady but intense. "In the days leading up to their disappearance, the victims report a growing sense of unease, as if someone or something is trying to mimic their every action. It's not a physical copy, but a psychological one. It manipulates the victim's perception until they feel trapped."
The officer looked skeptical, but Xen could tell there was something in his eyes—a flicker of doubt, followed by a creeping sense of unease. The officer clearly didn't want to believe it, but part of him was starting to accept it as a possibility.
Xen stepped forward and looked around the yard. There were overgrown weeds, a broken fence, and a faint smell of mildew in the air. "Tell me more about the neighbors. Did any of them witness anything unusual?"
The officer nodded, pulling out a small notebook. "A few neighbors heard strange noises at odd hours, but they couldn't identify the source. Some of them thought it might have been a wild animal, but… we don't have animals like that in the area."
Xen's brow furrowed. Strange noises in the night. The sensation of being watched. It was all adding up, but there was still a piece missing.
"Let's go inside," Xen said.
The house was quiet when they entered, the air stale with dust and neglect. It felt as though time had stood still here, the walls holding secrets that no one dared to reveal. The floorboards creaked beneath Xen's feet as he moved deeper into the house, his eyes scanning every detail.
"Where did she usually spend her time?" he asked, his voice low but purposeful.
The officer led him to a small living room. The furniture was sparse—an old, faded couch, a wooden coffee table, and a small bookshelf. On the table, Xen noticed a photo frame. He walked over to it, his fingers gently brushing the glass. Inside the frame was a picture of Lynn and a man—her cousin, Viktor Lorne, if the officer's earlier words were correct.
Xen studied the photo for a moment longer. There was something about the man's eyes—something unnerving. It wasn't obvious at first, but upon closer inspection, it was as if his gaze was too intense, too fixed on the camera. Xen's eyes narrowed. This man might be more important to the case than anyone realized.
"Who is this?" Xen asked, pointing to the man in the photo.
"Viktor Lorne," the officer replied, his voice quiet. "He was the last person to see Lynn before she disappeared."
Xen didn't say anything for a moment. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Viktor Lorne. The last person to see her. But there was something else—something in the way the officer had spoken that hinted at a deeper connection between Viktor and the disappearances. Xen needed to meet him. He needed to ask questions, to dig deeper.
"Take me to Viktor Lorne," Xen said, his tone final.
Viktor Lorne's Tavern
The tavern was located on the edge of the village, far from the well-lit streets and bustling shops. It was a place where the air was thick with the scent of alcohol, and the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension. Inside, the flickering lights cast long shadows on the walls, and the low murmur of voices echoed in the background.
Viktor Lorne sat alone at a corner table, his face hidden in the shadows. He was hunched over a glass of liquor, his fingers trembling slightly as he lifted the glass to his lips. His eyes were distant, lost in some thought that Xen couldn't quite grasp. There was a heaviness to him, a burden that seemed to weigh down his every movement.
Xen approached him without hesitation, sitting down across from Viktor. The man didn't look up at first, his gaze focused on his drink, as though trying to drown out the world around him.
"You're Viktor Lorne, correct?" Xen asked, his voice steady, though there was a sharpness beneath it.
Viktor looked up slowly, his eyes bloodshot and tired. "Who wants to know?" His voice was rough, like it hadn't been used in a while.
"I'm Detective Carl," Xen said, his tone calm but authoritative. "I need to ask you about your cousin, Lynn Walton. You were the last person to see her alive, weren't you?"
Viktor's face went pale at the mention of Lynn's name. He set his glass down slowly, as if the weight of the memory was too much to bear.
"I told the police everything," Viktor said, his voice low and strained. "What more do you want from me?"
"I need you to tell me again," Xen replied, his gaze unwavering. "Every detail. Every word she said."
Viktor's hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the table. His eyes were wild, as if he were reliving the moment all over again.
"She was… she was acting strange," Viktor muttered, his voice breaking. "She said she felt like someone was following her, like someone was always behind her, imitating her every move. She said it felt like she was losing control, like she wasn't even her own person anymore. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to help her. And then… she left."
Xen's mind raced. Everything Viktor was describing pointed directly to the mimic. A psychological entity, a force that copied its victims—taking not just their bodies but their very essence. It was the perfect explanation for the disappearances.
"I'm sorry," Viktor whispered, his eyes welling up. "I couldn't do anything to stop it."
Xen leaned back slightly, his thoughts already racing ahead. This was just the beginning. The mimic was out there, and it wasn't finished yet.
"I'll find it," Xen muttered under his breath.
As he stood up to leave, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching him. The air in the tavern felt thicker now, charged with an unnatural energy. The shadow of the mimic was closer than ever.