November 28, 2000
New York was going through a quiet period that year. It was late November, and the state elections had just ended. But none of that mattered to Andrew, because it was his last day in the city. He began to observe his surroundings; a man in a black hoodie stood beside him, while a small child ran around nearby. His eyes locked onto the child. A tear rolled down his cheek as he whispered, "Let's get this over with…"
"As long as you do not change your path, it doesn't matter how slow you go." I used to say these words by Tolstoy to you when you were a baby. I hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to do, son. And remember, if you find happiness by making others happy, then there is still hope for humanity..."
These words were in the last letter written by Alex's father, Andrew. When Alex was ten, his father had taken him to the park, hugged him tightly, and then mysteriously vanished. People believed Andrew had taken his own life, unable to cope with the loss of his wife. But Alex had always believed in his family and never gave up on them. This tragic event deeply influenced the career he would later choose and shaped the greatest purpose of his life.
– 22 Years Later –January 21, 2022
"Another day in New York… not a bad time to try our luck, right?" These were the words of Alex as he spoke to his alarm while getting out of bed. He felt good today—maybe today would bring some progress. He went down to the basement of the house. When he uncovered the papers he had draped with cloth, he saw that everything was in its place. A few documents bearing his family's names, a charcoal sketch of a man who resembled him along with a hooded figure, and one single letter—nothing more.
"Let's see… All I have is a letter, and no matter how great my skills are, they're useless right now. So no, not such a great day after all. Damn you, New York." Alex had made a name for himself by solving cold cases that were dropped due to lack of evidence—when he was just 15. Despite becoming a detective at a young age, the one case he couldn't solve was his own family's. He had never known his mother, but he remembered how his father used to stare at her picture. A ringing phone pulled him out of his thoughts—he could think about this later.
"Well, look who actually managed to wake up today," said the voice on the phone. It was Jessy, his intern, whom he'd somehow picked up along the way during his early detective days.
"Good morning to you too, Jessy. Don't forget the coffee on your way—two sugars, as usual." Jessy found Alex strange, but she still enjoyed spending time with him. The feeling was mutual, though neither of them dared admit it.
"Two sugars in the coffee—" Jessy's sentence was cut off because Alex had already hung up. He covered the files in the basement once again and got ready to head to the station. It was time to start the day—maybe it would help take his mind off his family.
When he arrived at the precinct, he scanned his badge at the lobby and made his way toward his desk. But something seemed off: the files from the case he had just closed yesterday were still on his desk. "Hey George, I finished these cases yesterday. Why are they still here?"
His colleague shouted from a distance, "We'll be out of jobs because of you, kid! If we hand in files early, we'll get another warning! Go find some cases from another precinct, you've got the day off."
Alex had been half-expecting this reaction. He had pretty much cleared every case in the last month. As he made his way to the parking lot and got into the patrol car, he was about to call Jessy when he noticed a young woman approaching in the rearview mirror. Jessy was bounding toward him, full of morning energy, balancing two coffee cups.
"Hey! You can't play detective without caffeine!" Jessy's voice had become a familiar melody to Alex. He silently wondered when he had started trusting this intern so much.
"Ah, thanks. Though honestly, your voice already gives a caffeine-like effect, you know?" Jessy jumped into the car with her usual grace and handed over the coffee, smiling.
"You're welcome. You're in your usual rude mood, but I'm not someone who minds that."
"Oh, how lucky I am to have an intern like you," Alex replied, running a last check before starting the car. A new day had begun. Or maybe, it was just the same day repeating itself. He was always stuck between those two ideas. "So, what do we have today, Miss Watson?"
Jessy quickly pulled up the terminal inside the car and started reviewing the cases. "Murder, murder, and oh look—another murder. There's a theft in between, too. What do you think, Sherlock? Anything catch your interest?" Alex had already gone over these cases earlier that morning. Most were close to being solved thanks to the evidence he had submitted.
"I reported the theft this morning. Did you know the thief is someone who works at the store? If we tell Santa Claus, we might get a bit more fame." 'Santa Claus' was Alex's nickname for their district supervisor. Though their relationship wasn't the best due to Alex frequently bending the rules, he couldn't help using the nickname thanks to the man's endearing belly.
Alex kept scanning the cases on the terminal while driving. Jessy, sipping her coffee, was unknowingly committing every detail to memory—one of her most impressive abilities. Her memory was freakishly good, unlike anything Alex had seen before.
"Check this out! The body parts scattered from the explosion on 15th Street last night are still being collected," Jessy said with excitement.
Alex skimmed through the details on the screen. Jessy began voicing her thoughts aloud. "There's only one body at the scene. With this many pieces, the explosion must have come from inside." When Alex confirmed her theory, she went on. "What's interesting is that no traces of explosives were found in the body. That makes this case perfect for you."
Alex grinned and took a sip of coffee. "Absolutely agree… Hey, wait a minute! I said two sugars!"
***
When Alex and Jessy arrived at the scene, they noticed that the forensic team was still working and the police units blocking off the street were moving carefully. It hadn't been difficult to find the officer in charge once they entered the street. Police Chief Mark was the kind of man who always enjoyed leading and giving orders. As Alex looked at him now, he thought the man might soon outgrow even Santa Claus if he gained any more weight.
"Well, well, look who's here! Our famous young detective and his intern, back on the field. Planning to make the headlines again, kid?" said Police Chief Mark in a slightly mocking tone. Although Alex knew how annoying Mark could be on the outside, he never stopped respecting him for the kindness he had shown his father when Alex was a child.
"Actually, maybe," Alex replied with a faintly sarcastic smile. "I could talk about how amazing your fat looks at the crime scene."
Mark let out a short laugh and replied, "You never change, kid. Don't give me that look—you can do what you want, but the case is about to be handed over to the feds. It's messy. Even you might not be able to handle it."
The fact that the case would be out of police hands only excited Alex more—it might just make things more challenging. Maybe this was exactly the kind of challenge he'd been looking for. "I've reviewed the details. Is there anything else we should know?" he asked, trying to hide his curiosity.
After giving a few more orders to the officers around him, Mark answered, "No explosives were found. But according to witnesses, there were two strange individuals spotted here last night besides the victim. Each description was different. One of them even fits your profile. Maybe this ball of lard should interrogate you!" Mark laughed as he said this, just as Jessy returned to their side. Alex hadn't even noticed when she had left.
"There's no ID on the deceased. They say even the DNA structure was degraded. Whatever chemical they used, it's really something," Jessy reported.
Even though Alex was trying to make sense of all the information, nothing added up. "So things are getting weird," he said. There was only one option left: to activate the mysterious ability he used in unsolvable cases.
As Alex turned and began touching the surroundings for traces, Mark went back to lead his team. Once he was gone, Alex began to speak: "If the FBI's stepping in, that means there's something they're trying to hide. I'll solve this before they arrive." Jessy wasn't surprised by these words. After all, Alex had once solved a nearly evidence-less case in a single day—at the age of seventeen. As much as she admired his ability, she always wondered how he did it.
"I know you're crazy, but this is impossible," said Jessy. "There are no details. There's not even any chemical that disturbs the body's hemostatic balance."
Alex smiled, "Don't worry. Just trust my instincts, Jessy."
Jessy replied sarcastically, "Oh great, so I'll write in my notes: 'Mr. Detective solved the case in style with just his feelings.'"
"You can spice it up like Arthur Conan. I allow it. Follow me, Miss Watson." Jessy often compared Alex to Sherlock Holmes when he was solving cases, though Alex had nothing to do with that character. He had a gift related to time—he could mentally relive events at a crime scene as if they were happening in front of him, and he kept doing this until he cracked the case. It was like being a superhero, but to use his ability, he needed to physically feel the space. He never told anyone what he did, afraid of being labeled insane.
"Why didn't I choose to be a writer instead?" Jessy mumbled to herself, while Alex was already striding ahead. For two blocks, he moved forward, touching the walls as if tracking someone. Eventually, he turned into an alley and stopped at a dead end, staring up at the rooftop of a building like he'd found something.
"This is strange. How could anyone jump up there?" He looked around, then turned his gaze back to the empty rooftop. "Why would they wait there?"
Whenever Jessy saw Alex like this, she thought he looked like a ghost hunter. "Why don't you ask that ghost you're following if they're voting this year?"
Still staring blankly into the air, Alex replied, "Don't worry, the government will vote on their behalf."
"Would it kill you to stay sane until my internship's over?" Jessy had just finished speaking when Alex suddenly stopped. Something was off—he could feel it. When he turned around, the calm expression on his face had vanished.
Something was wrong, and suddenly he shouted, "Jessy, get behind me now! He's still here!" Alex quickly drew his weapon from his holster and stepped in front of her.
"Alex, calm down, there's nothing he—" Jessy's words were cut off by the voice of someone who had just jumped down from the rooftop.
As if nothing had happened, the mysterious man who leapt from a six-meter-tall building began to speak in a strange British accent: "Actually, he's right, dear Jessy. After all, one must heed the words of the Heir of Time." As the man stood under the awning, his facial features began to emerge.
Jessy, stunned that someone could jump like that without injury, muttered, "This is impossible! How did you…"
Alex remained determined—there was someone he had to protect. "Take one more step and it'll be your last!" The stranger in the shadows paused. His face was now fully lit by the sun, revealing a figure straight out of a movie, with gray hair and sunglasses.
"Not the best entrance, huh? No matter, we can make up for it," said the stranger, tossing flower petals from the breast pocket of his black shirt into the air. Before the petals even landed, Alex fired—but as soon as his eyes closed, everything went black...
***
hen Alex opened his eyes, he found himself staring into bright white eyes—the first time he'd seen the stranger without his sunglasses. Everything around him was dark; the only thing he could sense was the outline of the chair he was tied to.
"You know… if you had even the slightest grasp of your abilities, you wouldn't be in this situation right now."
"Ah, my eyes! Damn it—who the hell are you?" Alex tried to look around, but the darkness offered him nothing.
"For now, you can call me Marco. You must be wondering why I brought you here… and why that dead man exploded like a bomb." Alex wanted to speak but chose to stay silent.
"I've been following you for a long time. And I've learned a lot. Most importantly, you've never developed your ability. You just replay past events in your mind. That makes you harmless—and an easy target. Lucky for you, I'm here, right?" Marco's strange smile made Alex feel uneasy. This man wasn't normal. What was even more disturbing was how much he seemed to know.
"This is impossible. How can you…? What kind of lunatic are you?"
"I suppose that's your way of saying thank you…" Marco murmured with a soft smirk. "Ah, why is it that a student can choose their teacher, but a teacher can't choose their student? Truly unfair. And as for what kind of lunatic I am—well, you could say I'm a freak… just like you." Seeing the stunned look on Alex's face, Marco didn't pause. "Yes, I know you've felt like a freak your whole life, Alex." His voice softened, but the mocking edge still lingered, pushing Alex's nerves to the limit. He swallowed his anger; Marco's words had hit a deep nerve.
"I'm just a simple detective chasing cases. If you think I'm someone else, you're wrong, Marco. Sorry, but you've got the wrong guy. Now let me go." Alex spoke like he was trying to convince himself as much as Marco, but deep down, he knew this was no coincidence. The determination in his voice couldn't silence the questions racing through his mind.
"I also know you use cases to distract yourself. That you fight every day just to stay sane. People see you as strong and composed, but they have no idea about the storm inside you, Alex."
Alex fell silent. He had always known something was off in this world, but he'd only ever seen the strangeness in himself. Still, that wasn't enough. This man was poking at his rawest nerve, and suddenly, Alex exploded with anger.
"If you know what I am, who I am, then tell me, damn it! Do you know what it's like to look at your family's photo every day and feel like a disgrace? Do you know what it means to be a kid who stood up for a father everyone else slandered—and was ignored for it? If you're a freak like me, then you should know we don't belong in this world!"
After Alex finished venting, Marco calmly continued. "If you want to know the truth about Andrew… then you need to accept what makes you different."
Everything stopped for Alex the moment he heard his father's name. He had always believed in him. Now, his curiosity was no longer wild but deeply focused—like a child chasing answers. "How do you know my father?"
Marco leaned back and sighed. "Another long story… Look, kid, before we get into all that, I want to tell you the rules of this game. If you want answers, you'll have to find them yourself. You're special. That's why I've been protecting you from danger for nearly ten years."
"Why me? What can a guy who sees the past possibly do? Who would care enough to protect me?"
At those words, Marco burst into laughter. "Only the past? That's just the tip of the iceberg. Like I said—you'll discover it for yourself." Alex knew what he was hearing sounded impossible, but instead of denying it, he chose to focus on Marco. For the first time, he didn't feel alone. He had found someone else with a special ability. Maybe Marco was right. Maybe he could do what he said. Even if it was only a glimmer of hope, Alex wanted to hold on to it. But how?
"I don't know who you are or why you're doing this, but I'd chase even the slimmest chance if it means learning the truth about my family. What do I need to do?" A part of him already knew—this path wouldn't be easy.
"That's exactly why I came to meet you today. I'm here to invite you to an academy—a place built to train people like you. Special people. Lucky for you, I'm giving you a choice: either you join… or I carry out your execution, since you're a potential threat. Your call. Oh, and you'll have the best teacher."
Marco slid his hands into his pockets and looked at Alex as if to say, that teacher is me.
"What about Jessy?"
"Oh, her? She's seen too much. I'll take care of her execution myself. Don't worry." The smirk on Marco's face was enough to make Alex not take the words seriously.
"Aah, don't you get jokes? This generation's so serious. Don't worry—I've got plans for her too." Alex was about to speak, but he hadn't noticed Marco slipping his hand back into his breast pocket. It was happening again...
****
After his conversation with Marco, Alex found himself back in his bed. His first instinct was to call Jessy, but no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't reach her. As the days passed, he sank deeper into a state of uncertainty—unsure whether everything he'd experienced was a dream or reality. All he wanted were answers, but all he got in return were more questions… and silence.
Unable to get any useful information from the station, he locked himself in his apartment. In those lonely days, alcohol became his only comfort.Once the relentless questions in his head began to quiet, a single thought surfaced: If Marco really believed he was that important, then he wouldn't let him die.But could Alex really believe that?
He opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out his gun. He stood in front of the mirror, unsure of what he was doing. He hated how quickly he had lost control of himself. Maybe he was wrong—maybe everything had just been a dream.To find out, he needed to pull the trigger.
With a grim thought, he slowly raised the gun to his forehead. But just as he did, his eyelids began to feel heavy. They drooped shut almost against his will.It was as if the sink in front of him had suddenly begun to pull him inward—dragging him down into a dark abyss…