Chapter 1
PART I – The Origin of Shadows
Chapter 1: The Silence of the Bathwater Case File: Bui Van D. Date of Death: October 12th, 2022 Cause of Death: Ligature strangulation, post-mortem staged as suicide
I knew he had killed her the moment I saw the obituary.
Nguyen Thi Hoa was found dead in her bathtub. Her neck bore faint bruises, but the official report claimed "accidental drowning." Her husband, Bui Van D., shed crocodile tears on the evening news and announced a closed-casket funeral within two days. I knew that face. I had seen it before—on predators, manipulators, and men who believe their rage is a right.
I attended the funeral wearing a black mask and sunglasses. He stood in front of the casket like a politician, shaking hands, thanking guests. When I extended mine, I felt the tremor in his grip—the guilt hadn’t faded. It was merely buried beneath layers of lies.
That night, I broke into his house.
His house was clean. Too clean. No clutter, no trace of the woman who used to live there. But killers always forget one thing: scent. Under the bathroom sink, behind a set of cleaning supplies, I found it. A pair of women’s shoes—white heels—stained faintly red beneath the sole. Dried blood, barely visible. And tucked in the heel… a strand of black hair, knotted, stuck in dry blood. She must’ve fought back.
In his closet, a leather belt hung loosely. Too long. Wrong size. Men like him didn’t wear belts like that—not unless they needed a tool for silence.
He didn’t drown her. He choked her, likely with the belt, from behind. A single precise pull—tight enough to cut off oxygen, but slow enough not to snap the trachea immediately. She would’ve convulsed. Maybe scratched his arms. Maybe whispered his name.
Once she went limp, he dragged her to the bathtub, filled it, and staged the scene—her hair draped over the edge, soap placed carefully on the dish, her phone unlocked and dry beside the sink. A perfect picture for the police.
Except the water was still warm when the paramedics arrived. Too warm. No one noticed. But I did.
Two weeks later, he died.
He was found hanging in his bathroom. A note on the mirror said:"I loved her. I couldn’t live with myself."
They called it suicide. No forced entry. No fingerprints. I wore gloves. I disabled the security camera by jamming its circuit with a rare-earth magnet. I left no trace—except the note I wrote in his handwriting, copied from an old job application he once signed online. Handwriting analysis wouldn’t show a thing—he really did write that note. Just not with his own hand.He died the way he killed her: slowly, gasping, confused.
Forensic Addendum (Compiled by "Me")
Ligature marks on his neck were consistent with self-inflicted hanging. But the depth of the indentation at the rear cervical region suggests post-mortem repositioning.
No bruising on the fingertips. No defensive wounds. A sign he was incapacitated before hanging.
Cause of death: Asphyxiation.True cause of justice: Me.
They say justice is blind.But I see everything.And when the law looks away—I strike.
(To be continued...)
