A few minutes earlier—
As the policemen rushed into the cell to save Franzzle, Tom sat motionless on the edge of his bed, his face empty of emotion.
Franzzle's final words still echoed inside his head.
Now he knew what he had to do.
Amid the chaos, no one noticed him watching. One of the officers had a revolver hanging loosely from a leather holster at his side. Quietly, carefully, Tom approached. His movements were slow enough to disappear into the confusion around him.
His fingers slipped around the grip.
One motion.
Then another.
The gun came free.
Before anyone could notice, Tom hid it beneath his bed and returned to his corner as if nothing had happened.
The floor of the cell was drenched in blood now—a thick crimson pool spreading across the concrete. Franzzle's body was eventually carried away. Tom watched silently.
Hospital, probably.
Won't matter anyway.
The station would be understaffed now. Panic always thinned numbers.
Tom waited.
And listened.
Footsteps.
Heavy ones.
He recognized them immediately.
The fat old policeman assigned to guard the cells.
Tom slowly lay down on the bed and grabbed his stomach. A painful groan escaped his mouth.
The footsteps stopped.
"What's the matter?" the officer asked from outside the bars.
Even from a distance, Tom could smell the stale cigarettes clinging to the man's breath.
"I—I don't know…" Tom muttered weakly. "My stomach… it hurts like hell…"
"Wait here. I'll call someone."
"No… no, don't bother," Tom said quickly, forcing pain into his voice. "I think it's because of all this blood. I'm feeling sick. Just… take a look, please."
The officer hesitated.
Confused.
Unsure.
But eventually, he pulled out the keys.
Tom's hand quietly slipped into his pocket, wrapping tightly around the hidden revolver.
The keys rattled.
The lock clicked.
The cell door creaked open.
The officer stepped inside.
Tom moved instantly.
He rose from the bed, aimed the gun directly at the man's chest—
—and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot exploded through the corridor.
The officer collapsed onto the floor with a cry of agony. Blood spread beneath him almost immediately. He wasn't dead yet.
But death was already approaching.
Tom crouched beside the body, grabbed the keys and the officer's firearm, then stepped out into the corridor.
Rows of prison cells stretched endlessly beside him.
The prisoners had heard the gunshot.
Now they screamed like animals.
Some cursed.
Some begged.
Some laughed hysterically.
Tom ignored all of them.
He ran toward the door at the end of the corridor. Carefully, he pushed it open just enough to look outside.
The main office.
Reception desk.
Exit door.
Exactly as he expected.
Only a few people remained.
Six at most.
One cleaner.
A receptionist.
Several officers.
And then—
Tom froze.
Charles.
His boss.
For a moment, Tom felt his heartbeat stumble.
He didn't want to hurt Charles.
He didn't want to kill him.
But it was too late for regret now.
Maybe Charles Had been in this from the beginning.
Maybe he had stood beside Oliver all along.
Maybe they framed him together
Tom didn't want to believe it.
But Franzzle's words had already sunk too deep inside him.
And now—
Everything looked suspicious.
⸻
Tom inhaled deeply.
Then suddenly—
He slammed the door open.
The sound echoed through the office.
Everyone turned instantly.
Tom raised the gun toward them.
"HANDS UP!"
His voice thundered through the room.
"LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!"
His breathing sharpened.
"DON'T TRY ANYTHING STUPID!"
Panic spread immediately.
People obeyed almost instantly.
Fear moved faster than thought.
Everyone raised their hands—
Except Charles.
"Tom!" Charles shouted in shock. "What are you doing?!"
He took a step forward.
"No—listen to me, you're doing this wrong!"
Tom's eyes darkened.
"Wrong?" he muttered.
A strange smile appeared on his face.
"This is the first time I've been right."
His grip tightened around the gun.
"I can finally see everything clearly now."
Charles shook his head desperately.
"Tom, listen—"
Suddenly—
Tom grabbed him violently by the neck.
Charles gasped.
Tom dragged him backward and forced him against his chest, locking one arm around him while pressing the gun against the side of his head.
Outside—
The storm exploded.
Thunder shook the building.
Rain slammed violently against the windows.
Inside—
Tom screamed.
"SHUT UP!"
The office fell completely silent.
"I listened to enough nonsense already!"
His breathing became unstable.
"Now you listen to me!"
Then suddenly—
He pointed the gun toward a woman standing near the reception desk.
The terrified woman looked around in confusion.
Tom shouted again.
"Yes, you!"
She froze.
"Call Oliver."
The woman stared at him fearfully.
"W-what…?"
"CALL HIM!" Tom roared. "Tell him to come here right now!"
The woman trembled violently.
Tom's eyes looked terrifying now.
Not angry.
Worse.
Certain.
She hurried toward the phone immediately.
Present Time
Jacob quickly handed Oliver a glass of water.
Oliver took it with trembling hands. The news had completely overwhelmed him. He sat silently on the chair, staring into nothingness while Mira stood nearby, unable to hide the fear in her eyes.
The room felt unbearably quiet.
Seconds stretched into what felt like decades.
Then suddenly, Oliver stood up.
"Listen," he said firmly, "we have to go. Right now. To the police station."
Jacob immediately nodded.
"Yeah, let's go," Mira said quickly.
Oliver turned toward her.
"Not you."
Mira blinked in confusion. "What?"
Oliver stepped closer and gently grabbed her shoulders.
"Listen, Mira," he said softly, "you have to go catch James. We're close—too close. It's now or never."
He looked directly into her eyes.
"Jacob and I will handle things at the station. You go after James."
The gentleness in his voice shattered whatever composure Mira still had left.
Tears began rolling down her cheeks.
Suddenly she hugged him tightly.
"Please, Oliver… please…" she whispered through tears. "Promise me you'll come back. Please promise me you won't throw your life away."
Oliver slowly wrapped his arms around her.
"I will."
For a few seconds, neither of them moved.
The storm outside rumbled louder.
Then Mira finally let go.
Oliver released her as well.
For a brief moment, they smiled at each other.
A final moment of peace.
Then thunder exploded across the sky.
And they departed.
⸻
Jacob and Oliver entered the car and drove toward the station.
Mira chose to go on foot.
If she ran, Aisha's mansion was only fifteen minutes away.
Rain poured mercilessly from the sky as she sprinted through the empty streets. Within moments, she was completely soaked.
Her hair clung to her face.
Water ran across her skin and through her clothes.
Every step she took splashed rainwater violently across the ground.
But her mind was far louder than the storm.
She couldn't think clearly anymore.
Thoughts collided endlessly inside her head.
She was worried about Oliver.
About Jacob.
About Tom.
How had everything become this terrible?
How had all of this led here?
Whose fault was it?
What had they done wrong?
What sins had she, Jacob, Oliver, Tom, and Robert committed to deserve this punishment?
No matter how much she thought, she could never find an answer.
But the questions kept consuming her from the inside.
She never wanted any of this.
Yet it was happening anyway.
That alone was enough to exhaust her mentally.
Her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
To her family.
Her mother.
Her father.
Her younger brother.
She wondered how they were doing.
Was her mother still suffering from those violent coughs she heard during their last phone call?
Did her father receive the money she sent last week?
Had her younger brother passed his entrance exams and finally gotten into college?
She wanted to see them again.
Things were simpler when she was a child.
Back then, she had been happy.
Back then, being ordinary didn't feel like a crime.
Nobody judged her.
Nobody expected anything.
As these thoughts grew heavier and heavier inside her mind—
A voice suddenly called out from behind her.
"Mira."
The voice was calm.
Cold.
And filled with an emotion she couldn't recognize.
The moment she heard it, a chill ran through her body.
Her footsteps stopped automatically.
Almost as if she had obeyed the voice without thinking.
All her worries disappeared instantly.
Because now—
there was a much bigger problem.
Slowly, Mira turned around.
And saw him.
James Ford.
He stood in the middle of the deserted road just a few paces away from her.
Rain drenched his body completely.
His wet hair hung across his face, giving him a far more terrifying appearance than before.
For a brief second, he looked exactly like how Mira had once imagined Teufel would look.
Her eyes widened.
Instinctively, she pulled out her gun and aimed directly at him.
"Freeze!" she shouted. "Don't move or I'll shoot! Get on your knees! Hands behind your back!"
James didn't move.
He simply stood there in silence.
Mira quickly glanced around.
The road was nearly abandoned.
No houses nearby.
Only scattered trees and darkness.
The chance of anyone appearing here was almost zero.
Then James began walking toward her.
One step.
Then another.
His arms were slightly spread apart, almost mockingly.
"Stop!" Mira screamed. "I'm not joking! I'll shoot!"
But James kept walking.
"No," he said quietly. "You won't. We both know you won't pull the trigger—"
Gunfire erupted.
Mira had fired.
The bullet struck James directly in the knee.
His body staggered from the impact.
Pain clearly flashed across his face—
but he refused to show weakness.
"Now are you satisfied?" Mira shouted desperately. "Get on your knees! Right now!"
But instead of fear, James only gave a faint smile.
"Oh," he murmured. "You missed."
And he kept walking.
Panicking, Mira aimed at his other leg and pulled the trigger again.
Click.
No bullet.
Her eyes widened.
She pulled the trigger again.
And again.
Nothing.
No bullets.
Fear rushed through her entire body.
James continued approaching slowly through the rain.
"What…" Mira whispered in shock. "What's the meaning of this?"
James stopped only a few feet away from her.
"I took your bullets," he said calmly, "the last time we met."
The realization shattered her completely.
Hope disappeared from her face.
"T-Then…" she stammered, "why leave that one bullet? Why didn't you take it too?"
For the first time, James hesitated.
"I don't know myself," he admitted quietly.
Rainwater dripped from his face as he looked at her.
"Maybe… I was hoping you would kill me."
Mira couldn't understand what he meant.
Her mind was overwhelmed.
Nothing made sense anymore.
James stepped closer.
Then gently held her trembling hands.
"Don't worry," he said softly.
"You don't need to worry anymore."
The storm roared violently around them.
"There won't be any more problems now."
And above them—
the thunder became even louder.
The storm raged without mercy as Oliver and Jacob finally arrived near the police station.
But the moment they saw it—
they froze.
The entire station was burning.
Flames devoured the building with terrifying hunger, climbing through windows and bursting from the roof like a living creature. Thick black smoke twisted violently into the night sky while sparks scattered through the rain.
For a few seconds, neither of them could even speak.
Then both men hurried out of the car.
Oliver stared at the inferno in disbelief.
"What the hell is happening?" he whispered. "Where's Tom?"
"Don't ask me," Jacob replied anxiously.
Suddenly, faint screams echoed from inside the station.
Jacob's eyes widened.
"Oh, fuck… there are people still inside."
Oliver forced himself to think.
"Jacob," he said quickly, "there's a small fire extinguisher in the car. Take it. I'll call for help."
The flames grew larger with every passing second.
"We can't handle this alone."
Jacob nodded immediately, rushed back to the car, grabbed the extinguisher, and sprinted toward the burning station.
Oliver quickly entered the driver's seat.
The moment the engine started, he slammed his foot against the accelerator.
The car surged forward through the storm.
While driving, his thoughts became increasingly unstable.
Tom.
Where was he?
Did he really call him there?
Did Tom set the station on fire himself?
Questions flooded his mind endlessly, yet none of them had answers.
Confusion slowly turned into frustration.
For a brief moment—a very brief moment—Oliver even considered abandoning everything and running away.
But the thought vanished almost instantly.
Then suddenly, nausea rose inside him.
He felt like he might throw up.
But he didn't.
Instead, another thing surfaced from the depths of his mind—
a quote.
"If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore."
Oliver had no idea where he had heard it before.
But now it repeated inside his head over and over like a curse.
His lips unconsciously whispered the words again and again like a mantra.
Then he remembered Yui.
Robert's words.
His guilt.
And finally—
Teufel.
Suddenly—
a figure leapt out from the darkness directly in front of the car.
Oliver's eyes widened.
He slammed the brakes instantly.
But the car was moving too fast.
The tires screamed violently against the wet road as Oliver jerked the steering wheel sideways. The vehicle drifted across the rain-soaked street and barely missed the figure before finally stopping several feet away.
Oliver's forehead smashed against the steering wheel.
Pain exploded through his skull.
Warm blood began running down the side of his face.
The injury wasn't fatal—
but it hurt badly.
Breathing heavily, Oliver slowly looked up.
And his heart nearly stopped.
Tom stood in the middle of the road.
Beside him was Charles.
No—
not beside him.
Held hostage.
Tom's arm was wrapped tightly around Charles' neck while a gun pressed against the side of his head.
"TOM!" Oliver screamed from inside the car.
Tom said nothing.
He simply stared at him through the rain.
Oliver quickly pushed the car door open and stepped outside. The moment his feet touched the ground, pain shot through his bruised leg and abdomen from the crash.
Still, he slowly dropped his gun onto the road and raised both hands.
"Listen, Tom…" Oliver said shakily. "I'm here. I—I don't know what to say right now, but please… let Mr. Charles go. He has nothing to do with this."
Tom suddenly burst into laughter.
Not normal laughter.
Broken laughter.
"Oh, Oliver…" he muttered. "Don't act so concerned. You're the reason this is happening."
"Tom!" Charles shouted suddenly. "Listen to me, son! If you want to kill someone, then kill me—but let Oliver go!"
"What are you saying, Boss?!" Oliver yelled. "You did nothing wrong!"
"No, Oliver," Charles replied weakly. "It's my fault. All of this… it's my fault. If I had acted earlier, maybe all of this could've been avoided—"
"SHUT UP!"
Tom's scream cut through the storm itself.
Both men fell silent immediately.
At the same time, thunder exploded across the sky.
Rain poured harder than ever.
Tom's breathing became unstable.
"You two keep talking about things like 'it's my fault' or 'take my life,'" he said bitterly. "But no matter whose fault it is… I'm the one whose life got destroyed."
His voice trembled violently.
"Look at me," he continued. "I'm a criminal now."
His grip on Charles tightened.
"Look at me. I'm evil."
Rainwater mixed with tears across his face.
"Why do you torture me like this?" he shouted. "Why?! You both act like you trust me! Even after seeing everything I've done, you still pretend I'm innocent!"
His voice cracked.
"Why can't you just admit that you believe I'm a criminal too?!"
He pointed the gun more firmly against Charles' head.
"Why can't you just arrest me… or kill me?!"
Tom's body began trembling uncontrollably now.
"Why do you enjoy torturing me like this, huh?! You sadists!"
He was almost crying.
Oliver felt his own emotions collapsing.
He wanted to explain everything.
He wanted to comfort him.
He wanted to tell him that things could still be fixed.
That everything would somehow be okay.
But the only words that came out were—
"Please, Tom… trust me."
Tom stared at him silently.
Then he spoke in a broken voice.
"I wanted to trust you, Oliver. I really wanted to."
Thunder roared above them.
"But I can't anymore."
His expression slowly twisted into despair.
"I've seen too much. Realized too much. I can't trust anyone now."
He laughed weakly.
"Look how far I've fallen."
He lowered his head slightly.
"I really am a criminal now."
"No," Oliver said firmly. "You aren't."
"YES, I AM!"
Tom screamed so loudly his voice nearly vanished into the storm.
"My life is ruined now! Everything is over—I know it!"
He tightened his grip around Charles.
"But at least…" he whispered painfully, "at least I can avenge myself."
His eyes slowly rose toward Oliver.
"I don't have to suffer alone anymore."
His finger moved onto the trigger.
"Oliver… you're coming with me."
Then he glanced at Charles.
"You too, Boss."
Oliver's face filled with terror.
"No, Tom, please!" he shouted desperately. "Listen to me! We're close—we're so close to finding the real person behind all of this!"
Tom's expression didn't change.
Oliver continued frantically:
"It's probably a boy named James Ford! We're almost there! So please—please trust me!"
Tom looked at him with exhausted eyes.
"You're not fooling anyone anymore."
At that moment, Oliver felt his entire world collapsing in front of him.
Charles suddenly smiled sadly.
"Sorry, sons," he whispered softly. "I hope both of you find happiness someday."
Then—
Tom pulled the trigger.
And thunder erupted across the heavens.
The gunshot echoed through the storm.
Charles' body went limp instantly.
For a brief second, he remained standing—
then collapsed heavily onto the wet road.
Blood splashed violently across both Tom and Oliver.
Oliver stared at the scene in horror.
Then he broke.
A scream tore out of his throat as he fell to his knees on the rain-soaked road, his hands trembling violently against the ground. He lowered his head completely, unable to even look at Charles' body anymore.
Rain poured endlessly over him.
Tom stood silently nearby.
Then he spoke.
"See?"
His voice trembled strangely.
"See? See?!"
He slowly aimed the gun at Oliver.
"Now it's your turn."
Oliver didn't even look up.
He was too broken to think.
Too broken to resist.
But somehow, through the collapse of his mind, a few weak words still escaped his mouth.
"Y-Yes…"
His voice cracked.
"Please… please kill me."
It was impossible to tell whether Tom even heard him.
But Oliver needed to say it anyway.
Slowly, Oliver raised his head.
Then, without fear—
he leaned forward and pressed his forehead directly against the muzzle of the gun.
Point-blank range.
Tom's eyes widened slightly.
Something about Oliver's surrender frustrated him.
No—
infuriated him.
His hand trembled violently.
And in a sudden burst of rage, Tom pulled the trigger.
Gunfire exploded across the night sky.
But Oliver was still alive.
At the final moment, Tom had shifted the barrel upward.
The bullet vanished into the storm above them.
Oliver stared at him in confusion.
Then Tom suddenly burst into laughter again.
But this time, the laughter was empty.
Dry.
Dead.
"No… no, no…" Tom muttered while laughing. "I won't kill you."
His expression twisted painfully.
"I won't let you die peacefully."
Rainwater dripped from his face like tears.
"I'm completely ruined now… so at least…"
His smile slowly collapsed.
"You should suffer too."
Oliver said nothing.
There was nothing left to say anymore.
Every word felt meaningless now.
Tom slowly raised the gun.
Then placed the barrel against his own head.
Oliver was too emotionally shattered to even process what was happening.
He simply remained kneeling there in silence.
Tom looked at him one last time.
"I thought we were friends."
And then—
he pulled the trigger.
The sound of the shot felt heavier than the storm itself.
At least to Oliver.
Tom's body collapsed onto the road.
Lifeless.
Blood splashed lightly across Oliver's face.
For a moment, Oliver thought he would cry.
Thought he would scream.
Thought grief would consume him.
But nothing came out.
His eyes remained dry.
No tears.
Nothing.
And somehow—
that felt even worse.
Slowly, Oliver lifted his head and looked toward the sky.
He remained there for a long time, staring upward.
Watching each raindrop fall through the darkness.
The storm.
The rain.
The clouds.
He searched for meaning within them.
He found nothing.
Then—
footsteps.
Someone was approaching him slowly.
Oliver didn't want to turn around.
He wanted to keep staring at the sky forever.
But eventually, he forced himself to look.
A figure stood behind him.
James.
Oliver stared at him blankly.
Then, in an almost emotionless voice, he spoke.
"Teufel?"
James said nothing.
He simply walked forward until he stood near Tom's body.
But he never looked down at the corpses.
Not at Tom.
Not at Charles.
His eyes remained fixed on Oliver the entire time.
For some reason—
that terrified Oliver more than anything else tonight.
"Now what?" Oliver muttered weakly.
A hollow laugh escaped him.
"Suddenly Teufel appears? Someone who died two years ago?"
He laughed again.
Broken laughter.
"Are you even real?"
Rainwater rolled down his face.
"Or is my mind just making me see things?"
He looked directly into James' eyes.
"Are you behind all this…?"
His voice weakened further.
"Or are you just a part of my mind?"
James remained silent for a few moments.
Then he finally asked:
"What do you think?"
Oliver lowered his head slightly.
"What do I think?" he repeated quietly.
Then he shook his head.
"Nothing."
His reflection trembled within the rainwater beneath him.
"I don't want to think anymore."
A long pause followed.
"No matter who you are…"
Oliver's voice became almost empty.
"In both cases… you know the truth."
James said nothing.
After a while, Oliver spoke again.
"Is it my fault?"
He laughed faintly.
"Yeah… maybe it was."
James finally asked:
"How do you feel now?"
Oliver stared blankly into the darkness.
Then answered:
"Empty."
Silence followed once more.
But now—
the storm had almost ended.
Only a few raindrops still fell from the sky.
After a while, Oliver quietly asked:
"So which one are you?"
He slowly looked toward James again.
"The real one?"
Or—
"just my mind?"
James looked at him silently for a second.
Then he answered softly:
"Does it even matter now?"
Oliver lowered his eyes toward his reflection in the water.
And quietly replied:
"No."
For the first time, James smiled slightly.
Then he turned around.
And began walking away.
Step by step, he disappeared into the darkness.
Until he was gone completely.
Oliver remained alone on the road.
Still kneeling.
Still staring into nothing.
And
Above him the storm was completely Stopped.
Chapter Ends
To be continued