Chapter 24: The Direct Confrontation
Excerpt from the diaries of Edgar Wilmore:
"Sometimes the killing is not done with a knife, but with words that live in minds. The real confrontation is not in the body, but within… where everything is revealed."
On an autumn evening, with fog covering the old streets of London, Eliza felt that something big was about to happen.
A small note had been slipped under her apartment door:
"The time has come. You know the way."
Reluctantly, she followed the carefully drawn signs until she reached an abandoned building in Whitechapel.
The atmosphere was eerily quiet—nothing but the echo of her footsteps in the long corridors.
She knew Edgar was waiting… but had no idea what the real plan of the game was.
A shadow stood inside the building, only his gleaming eyes visible in the dim light.
He spoke calmly:
"Welcome… Eliza. You finally decided to come in person."
A chill ran through her, but she did not step back.
"I'm not running anymore," she said.
"I'm here to understand—not to be a victim."
Edgar smiled a cold smile:
"Good… but to understand means to become part of the game, not merely a spectator."
The conversation began to escalate into a direct psychological test:
Every question from Edgar was a challenge.
Every answer from Eliza became part of the game.
Edgar tried to read every fear, every doubt, every hidden desire within her.
Edgar: "What if I told you everything you learned about me was true—but a part of you wants to know more?"
Eliza: "And you… what do you want?"
Edgar: "For you to know the truth… without destroying yourself along the way."
As time passed, the game took the shape of a direct challenge:
The narrow corridors, the shadows, the dripping water—all were designed to increase the psychological pressure.
Eliza began to feel that Edgar controlled the entire place—not just her mind.
Her every movement was precisely watched.
Every glance from him read her as if she were an open book.
For the first time, Edgar told Eliza about the darker sides of his childhood:
How the first crimes shaped his personality.
How he came to see killing as a sacred art.
How he viewed the world as a canvas—and people as colors he could arrange as he pleased.
Eliza felt horror… yet also a strange pull to understand this complex mind.
The mixture of fear and fascination made him more powerful than any physical threat.
Suddenly, they heard footsteps outside the building.
Detective Howard—who had been tracking Edgar's clues—approached the door.
Edgar did not seem disturbed. Instead, he smiled and said:
"Ah… Howard. Always a little late, just like life itself."
Eliza felt confused, and Howard had become a witness to the mental dance between the killer and the journalist—though he did not fully understand what was happening.
As night deepened, Edgar began to fade gradually into the shadows, leaving Eliza and Howard in an uneasy silence:
"The final part of the game… is always left for the players to discover themselves."
Eliza looked around, felt the cold, and took a deep breath:
"The game is not what I see… it is what we create when we dare to look directly into the shadow."
Outside the building, London was dark, the fog covering everything—leaving the feeling that the game was not over yet, and that the shadow was smiling everywhere.