Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

Stella cowered behind Robin, too terrified to look.

Colin was the first to walk in. He was limping slowly, each step seeming to take an eternity.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt he was shaking. I couldn’t tell if this trembling was out of fear or excitement.

“Phoebe…” His voice was a hoarse and grating rasp, the ruin of his vocals let out a suffocating

timbre.

“Phoebe?” Robin echoed, frowning as he turned on his phone’s flashlight.

“Thud!”

A dull sound as the woman who had been standing slumped straight onto the floor.

Robin’s expression darkened. He swiftly grabbed a stick nearby, holding it defensively as he scanned the area.

What lay before them was a body.

“Ah!” Stella, atter all was just a med student. Even with a tough exterior, she just never saw a real dead body. She screamed, covering her eyes and crouching down.

It took her a moment to lower her hands. She was crying as she asked Robin, “Robin… my legs have gone numb. I can’t look. Please check for me. Please see if it’s Phoebe…”

She didn’t dare confirm if the body was me.

And honestly, neither did I dare look.

Taking a deep breath, I mustered the courage to move forward with Robin.

Upon seeing the face of the corpse, Robin exhaled in relief, but my soul tightened even more.

It wasn’t me.

Colin staggered backwards, falling to the ground. His gaze flickered wildly, his eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. Then, like a man possessed, he ran out of the dorm and screamed to the void, “Get out… get the hell out…”

I watched Colin in horror, unsure if he was in the throes of a psychotic break, the kind with an alternate persona.

Could he unknowingly be the one behind all these killings?

“It’s not Phoebe.” Robin dropped the stick and dialed the station, his call quickly followed by the wail of police sirens.

Stella collapsed on the ground and suddenly broke down in sobs.

“Phoebe… where’s Phoebe?”

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She was too scared to look at the body, yet relieved it wasn’t mine.

The police and coroners arrived at the scene together. By the time Robin went out to find Colin, there was no trace of him left.

I gave up fighting the sense of defeat and simply slumped to the ground.

When would this cycle of murder finally end? Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“The victim appears to be around twenty–three years old. Her skin is still elastic, probably dead in no more than ten minutes. And she seems to have been calm at the time of death, which might be caused by drug effects,” the coroner briefly analyzed the scene. “The victim has no ear piercings; the earring was forced through while she was still alive. Her fingernails have been removed and reattached–likely not her own.”

Listening to the coroner’s analysis, I laughed weakly. How could it have only been ten minutes? It took us half an hour just to get here with Colin.

My thoughts halted, and as I snapped my head up, my whole body was shaking.

Could it be… there was more than one killer?

Did Colin have an accomplice? Or were there two individuals acting together, yet with eerily

similar methods?

Following the police back to the station, Robin immediately ordered a search for Colin.

“Find him, but don’t spook him. Bring him back safely.” He ordered.

*Judging by that lunatic’s behavior… he knew there was a body at the old orphanage, but not the exact location,” Stella said. She was draped in a blanket, clutching a mug of hot cocoa,

shivering.

I sat beside her, leaning on her shoulder.

Would she be terrified if she knew that spirits truly existed in this world, to the point of sleepless nights?

I smiled feebly. I rested against Stella’s shoulder and lost in thoughts.

Everything going on felt like a nightmare.

And when I woke from it, where could I go from there?

“Officer Robin! The forensic results are in! The fingernails on the victim’s hands don’t belong to her. After testing… they belong to… to…” The colleague hesitated.

Robin furrowed his brow, “Spit it out.”

“They belong to Phoebe.”

I watched as the cigarette in Robin’s hand dropped to the ground, sparking as it hit the floor.

The reason that colleague was so shocked was probably because a few days ago, they

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suspected me of being the murderer.

What kind of killer would rip off their own nails and place them on their victim’s corpse?