"Ethan Sterling's head was found this morning."

Xavier blinked once. "His head?"

"Yeah," she said flatly. "The rest of his body had already been recovered—organs ripped out, limbs torn apart. The head was the last piece."

The apartment was silent for a beat. Lilia shifted uneasily on the couch while Lyra was eating some leftovers she had brought from Seraphina's.

Xavier scratched his temple, looking genuinely puzzled. "That's… brutal. But what does any of that have to do with me?"

The leader's eyes narrowed. "Along with the head, our forensics team found something else—a memory chip. It was lodged deep inside…." She stopped and glanced at Lilia and Lyra before continuing in a low voice. "Well, his anus. The chip contained distorted video data—half corrupted—but it shows two figures standing in front of Ethan, who was strung upside down and still alive."

Xavier's gaze darkened slightly, but he kept his tone calm. "That's one hell of a detail. Go on."

The leader coughed and brought her voice back to normal. "One of the figures is male, the other female. The man in the video starts cutting Ethan apart—slowly, piece by piece. The woman's voice is faint, but it's there. Laughter, maybe encouragement." She paused, watching Xavier closely. "The resemblance between the man's silhouette and you is… uncanny."

Xavier tilted his head, a faint smirk ghosting across his face. "Uncanny, huh? You're basing a whole search on a blurry shadow in a corrupted video?"

The leader's voice hardened. "We're basing it on evidence that connects the victim's last known interactions to you, Xavier. And considering your recent history with the Sterlings, that's enough to warrant a full sweep."

Xavier folded his arms, his expression unreadable now. "Sounds extreme for something that flimsy, don't you think? But sure, go ahead—tear up my place if it makes you feel better. Just don't break my coffee machine. That thing's sentimental. And let's not mess with the refrigerator unless you want claw marks on your body."

The leader's jaw clenched. "This isn't a joke."

"Didn't sound like one," Xavier said, voice steady, though his eyes had turned sharper. "But unless you find a bloody knife, a hanging rack, or a corrupted chip in my living room, maybe stop acting like I'm the kind of guy who collects heads."

The officers eventually regrouped, exchanging brief nods before signaling that the search was done. Drawers half open, furniture slightly shifted—but nothing. No evidence, no trace of anything remotely suspicious.

The leader turned toward Xavier, expression still cold but her stance a little tighter now.

Xavier gave a small scoff, half laugh, half taunt. "Told you, didn't I? No criminal brings the murder weapon home. That's just dumb."

Her eyes flicked up to him, unimpressed. "Careful how you talk, Xavier. Unless you want those words taken down as a statement—and later used as a confession."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm not confessing to anything. Just pointing out the stupidity of this whole circus."

The leader didn't bite. "Then tell me—where were you on the night of the 14th, between midnight and six a.m.?"

Xavier's expression didn't even shift. "Honestly? No clue what exact time, but I was in a VR match that night. You can check the log. I've got testimony if you need it."

"We'll confirm that," she said sharply. "We'll also pull system data from Nexus Tower. If you left or entered after curfew, it'll be on record."

Xavier shrugged, unconcerned. "Be my guest."

The leader gestured to her squad. The officers began filing out one by one, avoiding his gaze as they passed. The tension thinned, but the air still carried the aftertaste of confrontation.

As the last one reached the door, Xavier leaned against the wall and called out, voice low but cutting, "Next time you plan to raid someone's home, make sure you actually find something. Because if you ever step into my apartment again empty-handed…" He smiled—a smile that didn't belong to someone sane. "I won't be this polite again."

The leader met his stare, stone-faced, as the elevator doors closed between them.

The moment they were gone, Xavier exhaled a sharp breath through his nose, half a scoff, half amusement. He muttered under his breath, walking back into the dim apartment, "NPCs… all of them. Moving just how I want. Playing right into my little game."

Xavier then clapped his hands again and the apartment went back to normal. The lights flickered to life, the lockdown tones faded, and the faint buzz of the systems filled the silence again.

[Lockdown has been removed.]

He turned toward the couch, eyes landing on the two girls. "Mind telling me why the hell you opened the door?"

Lyra crossed her arms, already on defense. "I told her not to open it. She did it anyway."

Lilia snapped her head toward her. "They were cops, Lyra! They said they'd break the door if I didn't let them in. What was I supposed to do, huh? Stand there and wait for them to blast it open? I even told you to wake him up!"

Lyra frowned. "And what, get yelled at for waking him? I didn't wanna disturb his sleep."

They traded the blame like kids passing a hot potato. Xavier watched them for a beat, the irritation already cooling into something duller.

"Alright," he said finally. "Don't sit and point fingers. It's done. They found nothing." He made it sound casual because making it dramatic would only make it worse. "Go shower. Get dressed. Don't leave the building."

They nodded, too relieved to argue.

He leaned far back on the couch, arms spread out, head tilted, staring at the ceiling as if it had the answers he needed. The apartment was quiet again, but that silence wasn't peace — it was the kind that pressed down, like something waiting to happen.

Now the cops would start their investigation, search through the tower logs, and dig into every angle. They'll trace exits, timestamps, camera feeds. They'll talk to people. They'll find patterns. If they're competent, maybe — just maybe — they'd end up crossing paths with Lucas. That's what he wanted. To flush him out. To know where that bastard was hiding. That's why the mess outside mattered.

His hands itched — a physical thing, not a metaphor. He flexed them once and felt the small, dangerous thrill like an old muscle waking.

Xavier exhaled through his nose, slow and tired, then muttered under his breath, "I am angry. I want to kill someone."

The words hung there, and then his eyes shot open. He sat up fast, a half-smirk tugging his face as a thought sparked as he muttered, "I already know a few pieces of shit I could make do with."

He stood, grabbed his jacket from the armrest, and headed for the door without another word. The lights dimmed automatically as he left, and the lock clicked shut behind him.

Down on the parking floor, his bike waited like it knew the drill. He swung a leg over, the engine roaring alive under his palm.

Xavier pulled his visor down and muttered, almost grinning, "Let's go hunting," before speeding out of the tower and into the city.