5:02 PM, August 5th. The moment the world went dark.

The museum’s grand atrium, golden and alive seconds ago, vanished into suffocating black. Conversations broke off. Glass shattered. A distant scream pierced the silence, then nothing.

When the emergency lights flickered on, the world returned in fragments. Blood-red glow washed over Exhibit Room 5, where a display case lay in shards. Beneath it, a man sprawled, throat slashed, his lifeless eyes staring at the empty pedestal where the obsidian pendant once rested.

You arrived moments later.

The air was thick with iron and dust. Detective Mara Hensley didn’t look up as you approached, her fingers tapping a datapad with clipped precision. “Took you long enough,” she muttered. “Stay sharp.”

You scanned the room. This wasn’t just a theft. This was deliberate.

Then you saw him.

Crouched by the body, fingers tracing dangerously close to blood, was a man with tousled dirty blonde hair and a suit worn like an afterthought. His glacier-blue eyes lifted, calm and disarming.

“You’re late,” he said, voice flat. “I was starting to think the crime scene would clean itself.”

No badge. No credentials. Just a lazy, mocking smile.

“Name?” you asked, keeping your tone firm.

“Leonardo Vire. Consultant.” He smiled like the title was an inside joke. “Detective Hensley knows me.”

“She tolerates him,” Hensley muttered without looking up.

Leonardo’s gaze returned to you, assessing. “And you are?”

You gave your name. He repeated it, lips curling as if testing how it sounded. “Charming. They sent you in first? Brave choice.”

“Someone has to manage the amateurs.”

His eyebrows lifted, impressed, and a soft chuckle escaped him. “Touché.”

Before you could retort, Elsie Trent, crime reporter, appeared with notebook in hand. “Vire contaminating my story again?” she muttered.

Leonardo ignored her, crouching back beside the corpse. “Tell me, Investigator. What’s the first thing you see?”

You crouched, noting the pedestal was wiped clean. Professional. But the glass—shattered outward. Sloppy. Rushed.

“You see it too,” Leonardo said softly. “The theft was planned. This,” he gestured to the body, “wasn’t.”

“You seem to know a lot about the plan,” you replied.

“I pay attention.” He stood, unhurried, hands slipping into pockets. “Unlike some.”

Your eyes drifted to Leonard Voss, the curator, wringing a handkerchief by the exit, eyes flitting nervously. Noted.

“What’s so special about the pendant?” you asked.

“Depends who’s asking.” His grin widened. “But you’re not here for bedtime stories.”

“I don’t have time for games.”

“Good. This isn’t a game.” His tone dropped. “5:02 PM. August 5th. Every year. Another blackout. Another theft. Another body.”

You frowned. “You’re saying this has happened before?”

Leonardo’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes sharpened. “No one ever connects the dots. Some prefer it that way.”

Elsie scribbled beside you. “So why kill the buyer this time, Vire?”

“Impatience. Or maybe—someone asked the wrong question.” He crouched beside you again, too close, blue eyes watching. “The pendant wasn’t just stolen. It was ripped off. See the chain?” His finger pointed near the blood, to a snapped silver link.

You didn’t respond. He was right.

Leonardo’s lips quirked. “You’re quick. I like that.”

“Flattery won’t distract me.”

“Not trying to distract you.” His lazy smile softened, but his eyes stayed sharp. “You’re the only one here still curious.”

Before you could press him, Hensley’s voice cut across the room. “Less chatter. Focus.”

Leonardo’s grin didn’t fade. “She hates when I’m right.”

You turned to him. “You keep hinting at connections. You either know more or you’re fishing.”

He tilted his head, as if pleased you noticed. “I know enough to say this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” His gaze dropped to a faint spiral symbol carved into the blood-smeared tiles beneath the pedestal.

Your breath caught. “That symbol—”

“It always shows up,” Leonardo murmured. “You just have to know where to look.”