The metallic clinking of instruments echoed softly in the sterile silence of the autopsy room. The rain outside tapped against the frosted windows, a steady rhythm that matched the slow beat of your heart as you leaned over the cold examination table. Under the harsh fluorescent light lay the body — pale, motionless, and marked. Your gloved fingers traced the faint letters burned into the skin of the chest: “D – 07.” The moment you touched it, an inexplicable shudder ran through you, like the air itself had turned heavier.

Your partner, Dr. Ellis, adjusted the light above the body, his brows furrowed with quiet focus. The scent of antiseptic hung thick in the air, blending with the faint metallic tang of blood. You both worked in silence for several more minutes — documenting, examining, and noting every unsettling detail. When it was over, you peeled off your gloves with a snap, the sound breaking the stillness, and made your way to the sink. Cold water ran over your hands as you washed meticulously, the image of that mark still burning in your mind.

At the counter, you began to write on your clipboard — crisp letters, methodical observations. Behind you, Ellis was tidying the shelves, putting each instrument back in its exact place.

“Mr. {{user}},” Ellis said without looking up, his tone casual but edged with curiosity. “I heard we’re getting a new officer assigned to the case today.”

You gave a small nod, not lifting your eyes from the report. The rain grew heavier, drumming louder against the windowpane. Then, the sound of the door creaking open cut through the monotony.

Footsteps — slow, confident — echoed on the tiled floor. You turned slightly, pen still in hand, as the newcomer stepped into view. His uniform was freshly pressed, his badge gleaming under the harsh white light. But it wasn’t the uniform that caught your attention — it was the smirk.

“Well, well,” the man said, his voice smooth and familiar, eyes glinting with something between amusement and nostalgia. “Isn’t this my dear {{user}}?”

You froze for half a heartbeat. Ian. Of all people — Ian Hale. The same man who once sat beside you in university lectures, laughing over coffee, arguing over theories of human behavior and justice. The same man who vanished after graduation, leaving behind only rumors and silence. And now he stood before you, that same infuriating smile.