Chapter 11: The Forgotten Research
1591 Words
The investigation room had never felt quieter.
The ten victim files lay open across the long oak table, their pages covered in handwritten notes, witness statements, medical examinations, and missing-person reports. Weeks ago, they had been nothing more than separate murder cases. Now, they formed a single story—one that none of the detectives fully understood.
Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the web of red strings stretched across the investigation board.
Every line led back to the same impossible truth.
Thirty days.
Lucien stood silently before the board, his notebook resting beneath one arm. No matter how many times he rearranged the evidence, the conclusion never changed.
The victims had disappeared.
Returned.
Forgotten.
Then died.
"What are you thinking?"
Kael's voice broke the silence as he entered the room carrying another stack of reports.
Lucien sighed.
"We've been looking for where they disappeared."
Kael placed the files on the table.
"And?"
"I think we're asking the wrong question."
Kael frowned.
Lucien walked toward the medical reports pinned beside the photographs.
"We know they lost thirty days."
"We know they remembered nothing."
"We know they came back healthy."
He paused.
"But the tenth victim..."
His finger stopped on the latest report.
"...didn't."
Kael's expression grew serious.
The image of the tenth victim still lingered in both their minds.
A man trapped between two worlds.
Neither fully human.
Nor fully Shade.
Something that should never have existed.
Lucien picked up the autopsy report once more.
"I've read this six times."
"And every physician reached the same conclusion."
Kael folded his arms.
"They had no explanation."
"Exactly."
Lucien looked toward the door.
"What if we're asking the wrong people?"
Moments later, Halt entered the room.
His sharp gaze swept across the reports before settling on the two detectives.
"You found something."
Lucien handed him the tenth victim's medical file.
"Not an answer."
He hesitated.
"A contradiction."
Halt accepted the report without speaking.
Lucien continued.
"Nine victims followed the same pattern."
"They disappeared."
"They returned."
"They died."
"But the tenth victim survived long enough for doctors to examine what the experiment actually did to his body."
Kael stepped beside him.
"And none of the specialists could explain it."
Halt quietly closed the file.
"What do you propose?"
Lucien met his eyes.
"We stop asking detectives."
A brief silence followed.
Then...
"We ask the people who understand the human body better than anyone."
Halt studied Lucien for several moments.
A faint nod followed.
"Prepare the carriage."
Less than an hour later, the three detectives stood before one of the oldest buildings in Necthera.
The Royal Institute of Medical Sciences.
Time had left its mark on the weathered stone walls, but the building still carried an unmistakable sense of prestige. Generations of physicians had walked its halls, preserving decades of medical knowledge that predated even the founding of the Silent Eyes.
An elderly receptionist greeted them politely before leading them through a maze of corridors lined with shelves overflowing with journals and preserved anatomical records.
Finally, she stopped outside a quiet office.
She knocked twice.
"Professor..."
A calm voice answered from within.
"Come in."
The office smelled faintly of old parchment and dried herbs.
Books towered from floor to ceiling.
Behind a wooden desk sat an elderly man with silver hair and thin spectacles, carefully annotating a weathered medical journal.
Without looking up, he spoke.
"I was told detectives wished to consult me."
Halt stepped forward.
"Professor Aldren."
The old man finally raised his eyes.
Recognition immediately crossed his face.
"...Detective Halt."
A faint smile appeared.
"I've heard your name more times than I can count."
Halt inclined his head politely.
"We require your expertise."
Professor Aldren gestured toward the chairs.
"Then you've come for something medicine has failed to explain."
Lucien carefully removed the tenth victim's medical report and placed it upon the desk.
The professor adjusted his spectacles.
He began reading.
The room fell silent.
Minutes passed.
No one interrupted him.
His calm expression slowly disappeared.
His eyes moved back to the first page.
Then the second.
Then the anatomical sketches.
Finally...
His hands stopped.
For the first time...
The old professor looked genuinely disturbed.
He slowly removed his spectacles.
"...Where did you find this?"
Lucien exchanged a quick glance with Kael.
"It concerns an ongoing investigation."
The professor ignored the answer.
Instead...
He looked directly at Halt.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"...I never thought I would see this condition again."
The room fell completely silent.
Lucien leaned forward.
"You've seen it before?"
The professor remained motionless.
His eyes never left the report.
Then...
Almost reluctantly...
He spoke.
"Only one man ever described a body like this..."
He closed the file with trembling hands.
"...and I prayed his research had been buried forever."
The silence lingered inside Professor Aldren's office.
For several long moments, no one spoke. The old professor remained seated, his weathered hands resting on the medical report as though it had become far heavier than paper should allow.
Lucien finally broke the silence.
"You know this condition?"
Professor Aldren slowly nodded.
"I know of it."
He stood from his chair with visible effort and walked toward the tallest bookshelf in the room.
His fingers traced along rows of aging journals, each covered in decades of dust. Medical encyclopedias, anatomical studies, and forgotten theses filled the shelves from floor to ceiling.
Then his hand stopped.
He gently pulled out a worn leather journal, its dark cover faded by time.
A thick layer of dust drifted into the air.
"It has been many years..." he murmured, almost to himself.
"...since anyone asked about this."
Returning to his desk, he carefully laid the journal beside the tenth victim's report.
The leather binding was cracked, and several pages had yellowed with age.
On the front cover, barely visible beneath faded gold lettering, were the words:
Experimental Research on Artificial Shade Resonance
Lucien frowned.
"I've never heard of it."
"You wouldn't have," Professor Aldren replied quietly.
"It was never taught after my generation."
Kael looked at the journal with curiosity.
"Why?"
The professor remained silent for a moment before answering.
"Because the research disappeared."
Lucien blinked.
"Disappeared?"
"It was removed from universities."
"Medical libraries."
"Research institutions."
"Even public archives."
His voice grew heavier.
"Within a single year..."
"...it was as though the work had never existed."
Lucien exchanged a glance with Kael.
"Who would erase medical research?"
Professor Aldren gave a faint, bitter smile.
"The same kind of people who fear knowledge."
He slowly opened the journal.
Inside were dozens of hand-drawn anatomical sketches unlike anything Lucien had ever seen.
Nervous systems.
Blood vessels.
Human organs.
Every page was covered with meticulous notes written in elegant handwriting.
The professor carefully turned several pages before stopping.
His expression hardened.
He silently rotated the journal across the desk.
"So you can see for yourselves."
The three detectives leaned forward.
Pinned to the page was a detailed illustration of a human body.
Half of the nervous system had been carefully shaded in black ink.
The accompanying notes described an unstable interaction between the human body and a Shade.
Lucien's heartbeat quickened.
Every observation...
Every symptom...
Matched the tenth victim's medical report almost perfectly.
Kael slowly lifted the report from the desk and compared it to the journal.
"...They're identical."
Professor Aldren nodded.
"Not similar."
"Identical."
The room fell silent once more.
Lucien looked back at the professor.
"Who wrote this?"
The old man closed the journal with great care, almost as though he feared damaging it.
His eyes drifted toward Halt for the briefest moment.
Halt stood quietly near the window, his expression unreadable.
Then the professor spoke.
"There was once a physician whose brilliance surpassed nearly everyone of his generation."
"He believed medicine and Shades could coexist."
"He dreamed of curing illnesses that no doctor could touch."
"For many, he was a visionary."
"For others..."
The professor lowered his gaze.
"...he was a man who walked far too close to f*******n knowledge."
Lucien waited.
"So..."
"...who was he?"
The professor inhaled slowly.
Then answered.
"Dr. Orion Smith."
The name settled over the room like a weight.
Lucien immediately reached for his notebook and wrote it down.
Kael searched his memory.
"I've never heard that name before."
Professor Aldren gave a quiet nod.
"I expected that."
"Most people haven't."
"He has been forgotten."
Lucien looked up.
"Forgotten..."
"...or erased?"
The professor didn't answer.
Instead, he looked toward Halt once again.
This time...
Halt met his gaze.
For only a second.
A silent exchange passed between them—too subtle for Lucien or Kael to understand.
Then Halt stepped forward.
His voice remained calm.
"Professor..."
"Do you still possess the rest of Dr. Orion Smith's research?"
The old man hesitated.
His expression became unexpectedly cautious.
"...No."
Halt narrowed his eyes.
"No..."
"...or no longer?"
Professor Aldren slowly closed the journal.
"The remaining volumes disappeared many years ago."
"Some were confiscated."
"Some were destroyed."
"And some..."
He paused.
"...were stolen."
Silence filled the office.
Halt rested a hand on the edge of the desk.
His gaze remained fixed on the worn journal.
Then, in a voice quieter than before, he said,
"If someone is repeating Orion Smith's research..."
He looked at the tenth victim's report.
"...then this investigation is far older than any of us imagined."
No one replied.
Because deep down...
Every person in that room had reached the same frightening conclusion.
The ten murders...
Were never the beginning.
They were merely the latest chapter of a story that had started decades ago.
- Writer
