Death's Gift, Another Obsession

Brian hadn't expected that after learning little Ellie was safe, he would muddle through and fulfill one of the dead woman's obsessions.

It had been surprisingly easy.

But where was the reward?

The moment that thought arose.

The countless red motes that had just merged into Brian's body immediately turned into tiny streams of warmth, flowing through his entire body before gathering in his kidneys, cavernous body, and other severely depleted areas.

It felt as though countless warm little hands were massaging him. The pleasure made Brian unconsciously narrow his eyes.

Beside him, Tom looked strangely at Brian, who had suddenly closed his eyes.

Maybe it was just his imagination.

But he felt that his pretty-boy colleague's expression looked a little... slutty.

"Slutty?"

Tom looked at the tall, burly Brian and couldn't help shivering. Uneasily, he asked, "Buddy, what's wrong with you?"

"Whew~"

Brian opened his eyes again and let out a breath of lingering stale air.

He looked exactly like a man taking that first post-coital drag of a cigarette.

Ninety-nine percent match rate!

Tom's gaze toward Brian grew even stranger.

Seeing Tom staring at him oddly, Brian came to his senses and hurriedly brushed it off.

"Nothing.

I was just wondering.

Why would the killer brutally murder a mother, yet spare the child upstairs?"

"No idea. We'll need to investigate that, but it has nothing to do with us." Tom urged, "Alright, it's late. Go home and get some rest."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

Brian didn't bother with pleasantries and turned to leave the small room.

But he wasn't in a hurry to head home.

Brian first returned to the morgue and pulled several bodies from the freezers, trying to obtain new obsessions from them.

Unfortunately.

There were more than twenty bodies, some fresh and some that had been stored for nearly half a month.

Not a single little orb of obsession could be found above them.

Thinking back to the wisps of smoke that had continuously drifted from the little red orb earlier.

Brian guessed.

The obsessions attached to corpses probably had a time limit.

As for exactly how long they lasted.

He would have to study that slowly in the future.

After leaving the Forensic Bureau.

Brian still didn't hurry home.

He parked by the roadside, pulled open his shirt, and nostalgically stroked his not-so-firm abs. The joy on his face gradually turned into something perverse.

They were back!

After three or four years.

His vanished abs had returned to his side once more!

The Gift of the Dead was fucking incredible!

After absorbing those crimson motes, Brian discovered that not only was his body brimming with energy, but the faint ache in his lower back and the soreness in his cavernous body had also eased considerably.

He guessed that this gift had strengthened his body.

How much stronger it had made him.

He wasn't sure yet.

Brian could only be certain that the weakness that had made him feel like he could suddenly drop dead at any moment had vanished.

Even if his body hadn't fully returned to perfect health, it had improved by a great deal!

This experience of fulfilling an obsession also gave Brian some understanding of his "cheat."

A corpse's obsession.

Was most likely what its owner had cared about most while alive.

For example, Emmaline Keller, the corpse on the left, must have been deeply worried about her daughter Ellie's safety before she died. That was why her obsession was the same thing.

It was just that Brian still wasn't sure how fulfillment was determined.

Perhaps it was some kind of idealistic rule.

Or perhaps it used his own perspective to determine whether the obsession had truly been fulfilled.

After all, it was difficult for a person to deceive themselves.

But Brian had no intention of dwelling on that.

Ever since his mental problems began, he had never wasted energy tormenting himself.

As for the gift bestowed after an obsession was fulfilled.

The process was extremely brief.

It probably lasted only a few seconds.

Without mentally preparing in advance, it would be easy to become disoriented while receiving the gift.

Normally, that was fine.

But in a dangerous situation, a few seconds of distraction could be fatal.

He had to keep that in mind.

"Right, I still have another obsession to fulfill."

Brian remembered the other corpse's obsession: Kill that son of a bitch Andreas!

Andreas was the husband of Karolina, the other victim.

If his previous guess was correct—that the obsessions on corpses were what the dead had wanted most before dying.

Then Andreas, who had taken the initiative to report the crime, was highly likely to be the killer.

If that was really the case.

Didn't that mean he could use obsessions to obtain important clues in future investigations, perhaps even identify the killer directly?

At that thought.

Brian lit a cigarette and narrowed his eyes.

When he had reviewed the files earlier, he had deliberately memorized Andreas's address.

If Andreas was the killer.

Then in order to obtain the corpse's gift, he had to act before the detectives did.

Los Angeles had the death penalty, but it was mostly ceremonial.

Once Andreas was arrested by the detectives.

It would be difficult for Brian to get another chance to fulfill this obsession.

After finishing the cigarette.

Following his uncle's habit, Brian crushed the cigarette out with his fingers, slipped the butt into his pocket, restarted the car, and disappeared into the night.

Was there such a thing as the perfect crime?

Brian didn't know.

But after more than two years at the Forensic Bureau and autopsies on over a thousand bodies.

Brian could stab someone eighteen times and leave them with injuries that could only be assessed as minor. He also knew how to avoid leaving traces at a crime scene that could allow detectives to identify him.

When it came to autopsies.

His professional skills might be average.

But if he wanted to commit a crime.

Sorry.

After more than two years of absorbing knowledge from all around him, well-informed Brian.

Had already built a deep professional foundation the moment he entered the field.

Half an hour later.

Brian parked his car, put his clothes on inside out, slipped on shoe covers, a hood, and a mask. After carefully surveying the surroundings, he walked down the middle of the street, avoiding one conspicuous traffic camera after another. He crossed three streets in a row before finally stopping in front of a two-story house surrounded by police tape.

It was a typical standalone American suburban home, with a small yard and fences separating it from the neighboring houses.

A neatly trimmed lawn lay before the door.

That indicated the neighborhood had property management and wasn't made up of isolated private houses.

There were likely surveillance cameras in some of the community's public areas.

A dim streetlamp not far away cast a small patch of light, the only source of illumination nearby.

Brian glanced over at the neighboring house and saw the same police tape.

The address was correct.

This was Andreas's home, Brian's target.

Brian hadn't come here to find Andreas.

Because Andreas definitely wasn't here right now.

For this kind of home-invasion murder case.

The police generally sealed off the murder scene and stationed officers nearby, either openly or in secret.

That was not only to prevent someone from sneaking in and contaminating the crime scene.

To a certain extent, it was also waiting for the rabbit to return to its burrow.

Although as far as the eye could see.

Brian didn't spot any officers standing guard.

But familiar as he was with police procedures, he could be certain that officers were hiding somewhere.

That was the confidence professionalism gave him.

If anyone else had been living in the house, the police would temporarily arrange for them to stay in a hotel or a partnered lodging facility until the lockdown was lifted.

To avoid missing things such as letters.

Homeowners generally left a note on the mailbox outside before leaving.

That was Brian's real objective.

Brian didn't look around.

Using the darkness of the surroundings, he confirmed his route, then pretended to be a passerby returning home late and walked through the neighborhood. As he passed Andreas's front door, he quickly glanced at the roadside mailbox.

Sure enough, there was a sticky note on it.

Brian quickly scanned the contents: "If there is any mail, please forward it to Room 304 of the Little Sparrow Inn."

He memorized the motel's name.

Brian didn't linger and vanished at the end of the street.

Back in the car.

Brian let out a sigh of relief.

He was glad no police officer had suddenly appeared to stop him and ask for identification.

Otherwise, he would most likely have chosen to give up on fulfilling this obsession.

The lodging facilities arranged by the police were generally partnered apartments, not motels.

So the Little Sparrow Inn should have been Andreas's own choice.

That made Brian's heart stir.

It was nearly three in the morning.

The front desk staff at a small motel would usually be asleep as well.

As for surveillance cameras.

They were easy enough to deal with.

Brian had previously helped process crime scenes and had seen how criminals dealt with such things.

"Better sooner than later!"

After thinking it over for a moment, Brian decided to fulfill this obsession tonight!

Another chapter coming later.