The Post-Heat Murderer Imprisoned by the Shackles of Love

Prologue

It was a dense, dark night. The street lamps on the deserted, cobblestone paths flickered dimly. From a distance, the sounds of the factories that were still awake moaned like a low wail. The wind, arriving in waves like a screaming army, swallowed that moaning sound entirely.

Among the houses swallowed by the darkness, a candlelight flickered in one. Through the opaque glass windows, that faint light appeared as if seen by someone with failing eyesight.

Suddenly, that faint light vanished.

"Noooooooo!" a massive, agonizing female cry erupted from the house.

That cry eventually faded into a soft moan, leaving behind only the distant groaning of the factories to haunt the surroundings.

Chapter 1: The Room That Sings a Dirge

"Sir Frederick, the people in the neighboring houses say that they did not hear a single sound," reported Constable Nels, who was under Abberline’s command.

Sir Frederick said nothing, but as he stroked his chin, he observed every corner of the room. There was a terrifying void within the room where the woman had been sharply butchered. Even though the body had already been taken away by the relevant authorities, the lingering scent of blood in the room felt like the high note of a dark, mournful song.

"Nels, is this woman the one who worked in this house?" Sir Frederick asked, turning his head slightly towards the constable.

"Yes, sir. She was the maid for this house. The owners of the house have gone to a faraway village for a few days; that is what I gathered from the people in the area, Frederick sir," the thin constable replied, his voice trembling with fear.

Abberline loosened his folded arms and looked down at the dark bloodstain on the carpet. "Right, Nels. This is also the work of that 'Jack.' There is no doubt about it."

"Jack...?" Nels’ lips began to falter, and his fingers started to tremble uncontrollably.

Abberline’s sharp eyes fixed on Nels’ trembling hands. "Nels, do you know anything else about this woman? Tell me the truth."

Nels’ eyes darted around. "No, sir... I don’t know anything..."

The inspector stared into the constable's eyes for a few seconds. Nels’ stumbling tongue felt like a bigger problem to Abberline than the Jack case itself. Finally, he sighed and turned toward the door. "Right, it is not good for us to stay here with this smell of blood any longer. Let us go."

Nels, trembling, prepared to step out of the room, which was filled with a deadly, heavy silence.

"Whoa, whoa, Nels!" Abberline shouted from the doorway, extending his hand toward the constable.

Nels, huddled in fear, looked around without any control. "Why, sir... what is it?"

"Look at the floor, Nels! You were about to step right into a pool of fresh blood."

"Ah... thank you very much, Frederick sir, thank you very much," Nels said, his voice stifled with breathlessness. Both of them quickly stepped out of that horrific room.

However, they had both forgotten to check the bookshelf, which grinned with a deathly silence in the corner of the dark room.