The Silent Witness

The Silent Witness

Chapter 1 — The Man Without a Face

Tokyo was covered in rain that night.

The city lights reflected on the wet streets, but the twentieth floor of the luxury apartment building was completely silent.

Inside the room, a young woman was standing near the window.

Her name was Ayame Shirokawa.

She was twenty-four years old.

Her long black hair fell over her shoulders. She was wearing a simple black dress and holding a glass in her hand.

Ayame was well known among Tokyo's high society.

Beautiful.

Intelligent.

And most importantly—

Impossible to read.

People said that Ayame could understand someone's personality just by watching them for a few minutes.

But tonight...

There was someone else in the room.

His face could not be seen.

He was standing in the darker part of the room.

A black coat.

Black gloves.

And his face hidden in the shadows.

Ayame looked at him.

"You're late."

There was no answer.

Ayame smiled slightly.

"Or did you want me to wait?"

Silence.

Then a calm male voice filled the room.

"I only wanted to see how long you could keep pretending."

Ayame's smile slowly disappeared.

"Interesting."

She sat down on the sofa.

"You don't even know me."

"I know you better than you know yourself."

Ayame placed her glass on the table.

"Everyone thinks that."

The man in the darkness took one step forward.

Then stopped.

The light still did not reach his face.

Ayame looked at him.

"What do you want from me?"

Instead of answering, the man placed a photograph on the table.

Ayame picked it up.

There were three children in the photograph.

One boy.

Two girls.

The moment Ayame saw it, her expression changed.

"Where did you get this?"

The man remained silent.

Ayame held the photograph tightly.

"You shouldn't have this."

His voice remained calm.

"That's why I'm here."

Ayame stood up.

"Listen carefully. You don't know what you've gotten yourself into."

The man gave a small smile.

"Maybe."

Then he looked toward the ceiling.

"Or maybe you don't know how close I already am."

Ayame was about to say something—

But suddenly, the lights went out.

The room disappeared into darkness.

For a few seconds, there was only the sound of rain.

Then...

Silence.

---

6:12 a.m.

Police cars stopped outside the apartment building.

Detective Haruto Shimizu quickly entered the building.

"What room?"

"2007, sir."

Haruto reached the twentieth floor.

The door was already open.

Everything inside the room looked strangely normal.

Two glasses on the table.

One chair standing straight.

One chair lying on the floor.

And the window was completely open.

Haruto slowly walked into the room.

His eyes moved to the floor.

Ayame Shirokawa was there.

Haruto stayed silent for a few seconds.

"Identity?"

The officer said,

"Ayame Shirokawa. Twenty-four. She worked in the fashion industry."

Haruto looked toward the other side of the room.

"Two glasses."

"Yes."

"Two people were here."

"Most likely."

"Where is the other one?"

The officer shook his head.

"We don't know yet, sir."

Haruto looked around the room again.

There were no obvious signs of a struggle.

No broken window.

No forced entry.

Only a photograph was lying on the table.

Haruto put on his gloves and picked it up.

Three children.

One boy.

Two girls.

Haruto turned the photograph over.

There was only one date written on the back.

17 years ago.

And underneath it was a sentence:

"Some monsters learn to smile."

Haruto stared at the photograph for a moment.

"Who wrote this?"

"We don't know, sir."

Haruto placed the photograph inside an evidence bag.

Then his eyes caught something on the floor.

A black button.

He picked it up.

A button from a black coat.

Haruto quietly said,

"Find its owner."

---

At the same time, somewhere else in Tokyo...

A young man was standing outside a train station.

He stood with his back turned.

His phone started to vibrate.

He answered.

"Hello."

A voice came from the other side.

"Ayame Shirokawa is dead."

There was silence for a few seconds.

Then the young man said only:

"I know."

The call ended.

He walked into the station.

His face was never shown.

Only his back could be seen.

And on the sleeve of his coat—

one black button was missing.

No one knew his name.

To Be Continued...