Cassilda: Take off your mask.
My mask?
Camilla: Yes.
Cassilda: We've all taken off our masks already. You're the only one left.
But I'm not wearing a mask.
You're not wearing a mask? Not wearing a mask?!(Cassilda screamed beside Camilla)
— The King in Yellow, Act 2, Scene 1
"Hmm? Who are you?" asked Alfred, dressed in a gray coat, sitting at his desk flipping through some documents.
'Isn't his eye a little strange?' thought the newcomer.
"I'm the new recruit, Javier Vaghan. It's a pleasure to work with you, sir!"
"With me?" Alfred replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, sir. I've been assigned to work under your command," Javier replied with a respectful bow.
That was five years ago, when Javier had just joined the police force. He was assigned by Zarquil, the head of the morning division.
'One of her games again?' Alfred muttered, waving his hand dismissively. "Fine. Leave."
"Huh?" Javier replied, confused.
"There's no work right now. Go take a walk around the station, or stay here. Just don't bother me while I go through these files."
Since Javier had moved from another city, he decided to stay and quietly watched Alfred.
"Do you… want help with the paperwork?"
Alfred raised his head and stared at him for a moment, then replied, "Sure."
'Lady Diana, I'm truly grateful to be working under your command. Please forgive this rude detective's earlier complaints. I'll gladly accept your gift—uh, I mean the new employee!'
Since then, Javier worked with Alfred, handling the documents that were brought to him. Alfred split the workload equally between them.
"All right, let's go," said Alfred with a smile.
"A mission?" Javier stood, looking at him with alert eyes.
They had already worked several missions over the past three years, so Javier recognized that tone of voice.
There was a hitman who had arrived in the city of Livery, where Alfred lived. Alfred thought he was just a regular suspect—until they finally found him.
The streets were crowded, but one man stood out.
A man in his thirties, wearing a long black coat. He had black hair, a green right eye, and a blue left eye filled with strange, intricate patterns and a language unknown to this world.
"Javier…" Alfred whispered, his eyes wide open.
Javier knew something was wrong. He noticed the resemblance between the suspect's left eye and Alfred's right one.
"Should I alert the station?" he asked, tense.
He already knew there was something special about Alfred's eye—something secret. Only the department head and Alfred himself were aware of it. Seeing someone with a similar trait could only mean serious danger.
"Yes. And tell the chief about his eye," Alfred said in a hoarse voice.
Javier ran off, leaving Alfred behind. After a while, he found a carriage and rushed to the police station.
He asked the receptionist and made his way to the rooftop, where Clouser was. It was noon.
"What's going on? Weren't you with Alfred?" Clouser asked bluntly.
Still catching his breath, Javier said, "The suspect… huff… his left eye is blue… huff…"
Clouser's eyes widened in shock. He ran downstairs immediately.
Later, he returned with two other people and headed for the plaza where Alfred and the suspect were.
The first was Clouser, wearing his bronze jacket with a gold badge. He had golden-honey eyes and similar colored hair, with black trousers.
Beside him stood a man in his 40s with a large scar across his face. He wore a gray coat and a black hat that covered his features.
At their feet sat Javier like a loyal dog.
When they arrived, Javier couldn't help but tremble at the horrific sight before him.
The plaza was soaked in the blood of dozens of victims. Alfred stood with a yellow sword, his face pale white, his long blond hair dull and wild.
The man in the long coat clapped his hands.
In the sky above, a chained giant appeared, arms wide open as if trying to embrace Alfred.
Alfred began to writhe in madness, hearing strange whispers and staring at black stars and an unfamiliar moon.
Eventually, both Alfred and the suspect collapsed beside each other—unconscious.
Present Day...
The mask vanished from the officer's face, and he dropped the kitchen knife from his hand.
"Ah!" the officer gasped, remembering everything from when he was possessed.
"I… I–!" his shaking hand reached for his gun to shoot himself.
"You planning to kill yourself before getting me to the hospital?" Javier mocked through clenched teeth.
"Ah!" The officer realized his mistake and picked Javier up in his arms.
"Step over that blood pool," Javier ordered, pointing at the woman lying there.
After obeying, the officer rushed out of the alley.
At Police Station 19, Sylvester Street, Alfred filed a report to the Livery City police department and boarded a carriage with Lily and the night chief, Daniel, heading back to the crime scene.
As they entered the alley, Alfred and the others saw a trail of blood prints, making them rush in faster.
'Javier!' The worst scenarios flooded Alfred's mind as he followed the blood trail.
After a while, the trio arrived at a white building.
"A hospital? Could it be—!" Daniel exclaimed.
They entered and followed the trail, ignoring everyone in their path like officers on a crime scene, not a hospital visit.
Eventually, they reached the door where the trail ended.
Alfred knocked and entered, seeing Javier lying in bed, bandaged, as a doctor tried to calm the officer curled up like a hedgehog.
"I stabbed him I stabbed him I stabbed him I stabbed him…" the officer repeated endlessly.
"You!" Alfred barked. "What happened?!"
"Ah!!" The officer screamed hysterically. "It's real! I didn't know it existed! Everything is so clear!!! I don't want it! I don't want it!!"
The officer kept screaming until he fainted and was taken to the next room.
"What happened?" Alfred asked curtly.
"There was a yellow mask on his face when he stabbed me," Javier smirked.
'It's him!' Alfred scowled.
"A mask?" Daniel asked.
"As I said, from now on this case is under the jurisdiction of the Crimson Feather Organization. No more questions."
A few hours later, Javier decided to stay, following Alfred's insistence. The others returned to their duties.
At the hotel, Alfred turned in before dawn, tossing and turning in his bed—dreaming of pale yellow mist.