Chapter 11 – The Night’s Shadow
1059 Words
Mr. Bay paused mid-motion as he was pulling down the shop’s metal shutter and called into the house:
“Thien, grab five bottles of water and a pack of cigarettes for Teo.”
He turned to the young man standing outside.
“What’s all that commotion out there, huh?”
“I heard there’s been a murder in the alley, Uncle Bay. You know Khoi — the punk who hung around with those thugs you chased off last week? He’s dead. Killed real bad.”
Teo hesitated, then pulled out his phone, showing a photo of the scene taken from afar.
“Brutal. Whoever did this really hated the guy. Cut off his thing and everything.”
Mr. Bay squinted at the blurry, dim photo.
“Damn… that’s nasty. Any idea who did it?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be staying up all night chasing news, would I?” Teo snorted.
“Rumor has it it’s revenge — some old grudge. A few people even whispered it might be Thien or his brother Bao, but everyone else said no way. Those two are too nice to pull something like that.”
Thien came out just then, holding a plastic bag with the water and cigarettes. Hearing his name, he frowned.
“Who the hell’s spreading that? I’ve been working here all night helping Uncle Bay — where would I even have the time or the stupidity to do something like that?”
“Exactly,” Mr. Bay added firmly. “You people better stop talking nonsense or I’ll sue you myself. And you, Teo — weren’t you working in a factory? Since when did you become a journalist?”
Teo grinned.
“Factory work doesn’t pay much, Uncle. I’m trying something new — filming and posting breaking news on YouTube. Get some views, make a bit of ad money. Easy side hustle.”
“Easy until the cops haul your ass in for poking around crime scenes,” Mr. Bay said, half-joking, half-concerned.
Teo shrugged.
“Come on, Uncle. Gotta keep up with the digital age. Old-school business like yours is outdated. News with a shocking title can get thousands of clicks — good income without all the back-breaking work.”
Mr. Bay reached for the bag from Thien and said curtly,
“Five bottles, twenty-five thousand; cigarettes, twenty-three — total forty-eight. You got exact change?”
“Two thousand extra, keep it,” Teo replied with a grin, taking the bag.
“Look at you, throwing money around,” Mr. Bay teased.
“It’s just two thousand, Uncle,” Teo laughed, waving as he left.
The smile faded from Mr. Bay’s face. He squinted after Teo’s retreating figure disappearing into the crowd.
Something uneasy stirred inside him. Without a word, he hurried up the stairs to the second floor and stopped outside Bao’s room, hesitating.
“What’s wrong, Uncle Bay?” Thien asked, following behind.
“I just want to make sure Bao’s in his room,” the old man murmured, gently turning the doorknob. He peeked inside. Under the dim nightlight, he saw Bao fast asleep on his bed.
He let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Thank God… it’s not him.”
He quietly closed the door. Thien looked puzzled.
“Uncle… you don’t think—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. His trust in his younger brother was absolute. If Uncle Bay truly suspected Bao, Thien would have argued without hesitation.
“I’m just being cautious,” the old man said softly. “But seeing how he’s sleeping — no killer could murder someone and then crash out like that.”
Thien chuckled.
“I know my brother. He’s weak, can’t even fight properly — how could he possibly kill someone that brutally?”
Mr. Bay nodded, saying nothing more, and turned to head back down. Thien followed behind, yawning — the night had been long and tiring. All he wanted now was sleep.
Inside Bao’s room, not long after they left, Bao suddenly jolted awake from a strange, feverish dream.
“Was that… a dream? Or real?” he murmured to himself.
He rubbed his forehead, shaking off the lingering fog. His throat was dry and burning.
“Water. I need water.”
He sat up, opened the mini fridge, and grabbed a bottle. Twisting the cap, he drank greedily.
“Ahh… that hits the spot. Huh? What’s with all that noise outside?”
The rising noise outside drew his attention. He glanced at the clock on the wall — the faint glow from the nightlight was enough to see the hands clearly.
“One in the morning… why so noisy now?”
Curious, he walked to the window and pulled the curtain slightly aside. Through the narrow gap, the dim yellow streetlight revealed a crowd of people gathered around the police cordon. Beyond them, he spotted the glint of police uniforms moving about.
“So soon… they’ve already found it?”
Just that one glimpse, and he knew what had happened.
He’d already surveyed the scene before leaving — watched the chaos from the shadows. Khoi’s friends had been terrified when they saw the body; none dared approach. They’d scattered, fleeing not toward the police but away — to save their own skins.
So who, then, had reported it?
He wasn’t worried. The discovery was inevitable.
And with the fake traces he’d carefully planted, no one would ever suspect him.
Stretching lazily, he lay back down.
“Let them guess all they want. They’ll come looking tomorrow anyway. Everything’s still… according to plan.”
He exhaled slowly, hands folded behind his head, and drifted back into sleep.
Ten minutes later, as Bao’s breathing slowed and his body went still, something began to shift.
From within him, shadows seeped out — dozens of them, filling the room in seconds.
“Still too green… not ready yet.”
“Yes. Just a child, after all.”
“No matter. There’s still time… until then.”
“At this rate, I fear it won’t be enough.”
“Don’t worry. The catalyst is still maturing.”
“Heh… heh… heh…”
The shadows whispered, then broke into chilling laughter —
and one by one, they dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the cold air…
and the echo of their laughter fading into the dark.
- Writer
