The Relic Designer

Chapter 3 Cracks in the Shadows

Under the bright light in the living room, Ethan Cross sat carefully examining two black-and-white photos, trying to find any clues within them.

"The 'home' mentioned in the photo... it must refer to the world where the 'fake father' and 'fake mother' exist."

"The first photo says I’ve become the 'head of the family,' holding the key to open the door to the house. The key in this context isn't an object—it's a power, like how the game I created has turned into reality."

"The 'fake father' and 'fake mother' entered reality through the game I made. Maybe they aren't their true forms, but merely an image that manifested when they descended into this world."

Ethan wrote the words "them" and "it" in his notebook. He still couldn't be sure what these beings truly were.

His head ached, and he pressed his hand to his temples. "All the strange events happening to me are tied to that tunnel. I need to investigate it when daylight breaks; maybe I'll find some answers."

He glanced at the second black-and-white photo. In just a few minutes, the image of Daniel's photo had changed. Cracks appeared on his body, and his expression grew more terrified.

"Is Daniel's consciousness—or rather, his soul—being dragged into the world of the 'fake mother'?"

"In less than three minutes, it looks like he’s about to be ‘played to death.’ This 'home' seems terrifying."

Ethan tucked the two photos away and quickly dialed the police. He didn't want Daniel to die in his house.

"Hello, I need to report an emergency. The 'Raincoat Killer' is inside my house."

There was a brief pause, then the dispatcher’s voice turned tense. "Are you being held hostage? Stay calm and don't provoke him. Is he near you? Ask him to state his demands. We’ll prioritize your safety."

Ethan glanced at Daniel, whose head was b****y, mouth foaming from the d**g, and his hands and feet bound. He thought for a moment. "Just get here quickly. If you’re too late, he might not make it."

While waiting for the police to arrive, Ethan used his phone to search the news.

A bus with all passengers missing should’ve made the headlines, but he couldn’t find a single report about it.

When he checked the bus schedule for the night of the Lantern Festival, the official website showed that all bus services had been suspended due to heavy rain.

"If all buses were canceled, what vehicle did I take that night?"

Ethan had worked as a psychological counselor at Havenport Maximum Security Prison. He had dealt with all kinds of lunatics, so he always forced himself to stay rational, not letting abnormal thoughts influence him. But now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

"This world doesn't feel right."

With suspicion creeping into his mind, everything seemed wrong. He went through the recent news reports.

"The great cities of Silvershore, the Century Smart City of Newford, and the International Metropolis of Havenshore—renowned for their excellent security, orderly public life, rich cultural heritage, and the prosperity of its citizens—have been selected as this year's model cities for human civilization! They are shining examples of charity and morality. Now, let’s welcome Mr. Jace Collins, Vice President of the Havenshore Charity Association, to give a speech…”

"Breaking News! A riot has broken out at Havenport Maximum Security Prison! Several inmates injured, three missing!"

"Breaking News! A fire broke out at the only 9th-generation theme park in Silvershore at midnight, the flames lit up the sky until morning. No casualties among visitors, but the park was heavily damaged and must cease operations temporarily."

"Breaking News! Multiple violent incidents occurred last night in the Old District of Havenshore! Citizens are advised to stay cautious while outside!"

Ethan furrowed his brows as he scanned the news. "Abnormal cases keep happening, and private forums and media are spreading all kinds of rumors, though it’s unclear what’s true."

The rain battered against the windows, the shrill wail of police sirens cutting through the storm. Footsteps pounded down the hall, and then someone knocked violently on the living room door.

"They're here!"

Ethan opened the door, and several armed police officers rushed in. They immediately noticed Daniel, expertly bound and seemingly unconscious.

"Did you subdue the suspect?" Detective Lorne gestured for the others to check the room, his eyes a little confused. After years of working as a cop, this was the first time he had encountered such a situation.

"Before the identity of a psychotic killer is confirmed, it’s the most terrifying thing because anyone around you could be that killer. Once the identity is confirmed, they’re just a mentally disabled beast." Ethan poured himself a cup of hot water. "I’m Ethan Cross. I used to work as a psychological counselor at Havenport Maximum Security Prison."

"You’re brave, but I’d advise against putting yourself in danger. Don’t open the door to strangers before sunrise," Detective Lorne said, his tone still serious despite the Raincoat Killer being caught.

"Does the Raincoat Killer have an accomplice? That shouldn’t be the case. From the perspective of abnormal psychology, these kinds of killers prefer to act alone."

"There have been multiple incidents in the Old District over the past three days. What you saw on the news is only what you were allowed to see," Detective Lorne didn’t finish his sentence, but it was clear that the situation was worse than he was letting on. The Old District had been overshadowed by a terrifying atmosphere, with murders happening in rapid succession. The crime scenes were so bizarre and brutal that they almost seemed inhuman.

"These murders all happened in the past three days?" Ethan realized that this timeline matched perfectly with the day he had taken the bus through the tunnel, marking the beginning of all these abnormalities.

"Stay home and stay safe. Don’t take any more risks. Protect yourself and your family," Detective Lorne added, but just as he was about to say more, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. A man, his face horribly disfigured and wearing a black communication ring on his left arm, rushed into the room.

Seeing the man, Detective Lorne’s brow furrowed even deeper, but he didn’t interfere with the man’s actions, clearly from a different department.

The disfigured man didn’t greet anyone but quickly walked around the room before heading toward the bedroom. Just as he entered the bedroom, the black communication ring on his arm malfunctioned, sparking with electricity.

After trying unsuccessfully to fix it, the man quickly left the room.

"That guy isn’t with your team, is he? How does he get to be part of the operation?" Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that the disfigured man looked more like a criminal than an officer.

Shaking his head, Detective Lorne whispered, "He’s an investigator from Newford City, but I’m not sure what he’s investigating."

"An investigator?" Ethan had never heard of that title, even after working in the prison system.

Detective Lorne didn’t elaborate. They were here to catch the killer, not to handle medical emergencies. After a few more questions about Daniel’s condition, he and his team left.

Ethan closed the door behind them and collapsed onto the couch. Too many strange things had happened lately, and sleep eluded him.

"I wonder when this rain will ever stop…"

Listening to the ticking of the wall clock, Ethan pulled out the two photos again. The black-and-white photo of Daniel now had more cracks, and his life seemed to be slipping away.

"It feels like this black-and-white photo is a card game, only the living are turned into cards, and the 'fake' ones are playing the game."

Staring at his own colorful photo, Ethan tried to reassure himself. "From a visual standpoint, my photo is probably a rare card, right? Though people like me, with so many parents, never get to be the protagonist in these kinds of stories…"

As the rain poured outside, Detective Lorne stood in front of Lillian Apartments, his eyes turning upward. The entire building was oppressive and dark, with only Ethan’s apartment lit.

"Jackson, check that counselor’s credentials right now. His calmness is too much."

"He’s not lying," Jackson responded, water dripping on his phone screen. "He really is the youngest psychological counselor at Havenport Maximum Security Prison. He’s a legit medical school graduate and even has the right to prescribe medication, but…"

"The most recent mental health evaluation he had didn’t go well. It was probably a system error."

"What went wrong?"

"His danger rating exceeded the set limit of the test."