Epilogue
I wiped the blood from my face and walked out of that building.
Detective Vance was standing by the curb, holding a black umbrella, pacing back and forth, sidestepping puddles on the ground.
She'd come alone. A police car was parked nearby; it looked like she'd driven straight from the station.
I waved at her.
She ran over. "Is he okay?"
I pointed upstairs. Detective Vance looked up.
Dr. Ashmore's silhouette stood at the window.
Detective Vance squinted. "Can't see clearly."
I said, "He'll start moving in a moment."
Detective Vance said, "Oh, I'll keep watching, then."
I stood under her umbrella, bummed a cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag.
We watched the window together.
Suddenly, Dr. Ashmore climbed onto the windowsill.
He howled: "What's 160 to the sixth power?"
Detective Vance heard Ian Ashford beside her say softly, "It's over."
It sounded almost like a sigh.
Dr. Ashmore lost his balance and plummeted from the fifteenth floor. He crashed through the awning and struck the ground with a thunderous boom.
Fine rain drifted down from above, pattering against Dr. Ashmore's broken body.
People screamed. The black umbrella fell at my feet. The police car's red lights flashed through the damp air.
Detective Vance called for an ambulance and sprinted toward the body.
I snuffed out my cigarette and walked away.
---
I walked along the rain-slicked street.
Trucks rumbled past the roadside, kicking up stones with a grinding roar.
I stopped and leaned both hands on the railing, gazing blankly at the pedestrians on the road.
For some reason, my left eye was still activated, showing no signs of powering down. The pain was intense too—every time I shifted my eyeball, it felt as if knife blades had slipped inside.
My mind drifted back to the glass shards that had lodged in my eye that day.
The moment I shattered through the floor-to-ceiling window, I saw Serena suspended upside down in midair.
Sometimes I couldn't help but think—if only this left eye could stop time. Freeze it right there, and I'd push through the glass, step over the thumbtacks, and take her hand.
Instead of standing here in the rain after killing someone, without a clue where to go next or what to do.
Then I noticed a girl standing at the crosswalk, beneath the traffic light, not far ahead.
Like me, she wasn't carrying an umbrella.
I saw a shadow figure behind her.
It was a young man—probably her boyfriend.
I tilted my head back and let raindrops fall into my left eye. The dryness made me blink involuntarily.
Detective Vance had told me this: after hard damage, if followed by soft damage, you could see behind a person how despair takes shape.
I looked over. The shadow behind the girl began to move.
Her boyfriend pushed her and told her he didn't love her at all, that he had someone new, that she should stop pestering him.
The light turned red.
Traffic surged forward.
The girl lifted her foot off the curb.
I called out, "Hey—wait a second."
She turned around blankly.
I said, "A breakup's no reason to kill yourself."
She paused, then said, "How did you know?"
She didn't seem all that intent on suicide—my shout had faded the shadow figure considerably. The white line tethered to her was nearly invisible.
I hesitated.
What do you say at a time like this?
A familiar voice surfaced in my mind.
I thought for a moment, then said to her, "Girls shouldn't be this fragile."
Fine rain swirled around us.
She smiled, wiped the corners of her eyes, and said, "Thank you."
I waved. "Go on home. Get a good sleep."
I watched her walk away, then turned and kept walking.
It was time for me to go home too.
Get a good sleep, and wait for Detective Vance to arrive.
---
I woke up on the living room floor. My cat was licking my hand.
The ringtone of my phone had roused me.
Detective Vance said from the other end, "Open the door."
She was wearing casual clothes, a blue hair clip in her hair.
I scratched my head and said, "Why aren't you in uniform?"
She said, "They told me to dress like this… to lower your guard."
I brewed a pot of tea for her. She cradled the cup and sat beside me. The cat wandered over, mewing at my feet.
I said, "Looks like I didn't have time to feed him."
She said, "I'll take him to my place."
I said, "He has a sensitive stomach. Make sure to pick soft cat food."
She nodded. "Okay."
We fell silent for a while.
After a long pause, Detective Vance broke the silence. "Dr. Ashmore's employees are giving statements one after another, and Aunt Mae has regained consciousness. I'm sure the charges will stick soon."
I said, "That's good."
She said, "Also—you were at the scene when Dr. Ashmore died. I saw you. We found the recording pen, and with Six Degrees Murder already on file, his proof of presence, method, and timeline all match…"
I stroked the cat's head and said, "I killed him."
I said, "I killed Dr. Ashmore."
She didn't speak for a long time. I turned and saw the faint glimmer of tears in her eyes.
In a daze, she asked, "Why?"
I pulled her into a hug and patted her back.
I said, "You know why. For revenge."
She said nothing, burying her face in my chest.
She said, "Why did you have to confess?"
I heard her stifled sobs.
Because then I'd have to arrest you. Her voice was low, trembling as she spoke.
I slowly rubbed her back and said, "It's okay. Don't keep your colleagues downstairs waiting too long."