It was late, and the stillness of the night began to impose itself upon the palace that had been brimming with life just hours ago. The guests' faces were pale, their eyes searching for answers amid the fog of confusion. Inspector Michael announced that the police had found no material evidence to incriminate anyone, and all the guests had documented alibis. The palace doors were opened, and the guests began to leave in a heavy silence.
But Jack, in his usual arrogant tone, broke that silence, saying:
"No problem. We can narrow the investigation down to only five people."
Everyone turned toward him in astonishment, even Starla looked at him as if seeing Jack for the first time.
"What do you mean?" she asked with a surprised tone.
He answered confidently:
"The maid told me that only five people visited Mr. Luther on the morning of the party."
Then he listed their names:
Mr. James: The famous playwright.
Mrs. Maria: The theater actress who shined in his works.
Mr. Longhi: The German painter who recently moved to London.
Mr. Fortin: The well-known merchant.
Mr. Moriarty: The businessman and owner of a famous beverage company.
Inspector Michael quickly jotted down the names, then was interrupted by one of the officers:
"Sir, we found an engraving carved into Mr. Luther's desk. Just three numbers: 7, 12, 23."
The inspector paused in silence, examining the numbers. Martin stared at them too… his face frozen, as if something was forming in his mind but not yet clear.
The inspector decided to summon the five individuals to the police station for a thorough interrogation. After long hours of questioning, they were released. No evidence, no traces, no murder weapon. The death was deemed accidental… but Michael wasn't convinced. He couldn't swallow that story so easily.
The next day, he gathered with Martin, Adrian, Starla, Jack, and Michael in a secret location. He looked at them and said:
"I'll continue the investigation alone, but stay alert — I'll need you if necessary."
Everyone agreed. And a week later, while the sky drizzled gently, Martin and Adrian were having dinner in Martin's small apartment on Lovestrad Street.
After dinner, Adrian went to the window to get some fresh air, and the moment he opened it, he screamed:
"Martin!!! Come quickly!!"
Martin dropped his plate in terror and ran to him. He looked out the window… and was stunned.
On the rooftop of the opposite building, Maria's body was hanging, her head severed from her body, blood dripping from the edge. At her feet… a domino tile bearing the number 5.
Martin's body trembled, his voice shook:
"It's him… without a doubt."
After Adrian called the police, a patrol arrived immediately and cordoned off the area. The inspector began questioning Adrian, who answered with a trembling voice:
"I didn't hear anything… I was just getting some air when I saw… saw that horrifying sight."
The officers moved on to question the neighbors, all of whom confirmed the same thing: "We didn't hear a single sound all night."
Then the inspector approached Martin, who looked disturbed, and asked:
"What's wrong? You look pale… do you know the victim?"
Martin whispered:
"I can't believe it… he's back."
Adrian interjected, shocked:
"Who? Who's back?"
"The Ghoul…"
"The Ghoul? You mean the serial killer who disappeared ten years ago?"
Martin nodded and began to speak, his voice trembling:
"I was ten years old, a different kind of kid… smarter than my peers, known in the neighborhood, beloved… until that day.
I was coming back from chess club with my father, we stopped to buy some fruit, and suddenly… a scream! A thief snatched a woman's purse and ran. My father and another man chased him through the crowded market. I tried to follow, but I got lost in the crowd.
I waited by the fruit vendor… time passed, the sun began to set, and my father hadn't returned.
The vendor offered to take me home. On the way, we passed a park… and there, we saw the thief — dead.
We ran in fear, not knowing the nightmare hadn't even started…
When we got home, I was shocked.
Blood… an axe… I saw my mother… headless. My father — stabbed… a hellish scene I'll never forget.
I passed out and woke up two days later. The vendor, Abraham, was by my side. He offered to take me in, and I accepted.
We lived together for three months. He treated me like his own son — unmarried, lonely but warm. Until that night…
The window glass shattered. He ran to see, pulled out his pistol… fired a shot… and fell dead before me.
I approached him, crying… and then I saw him.
A tall man, his features terrifyingly calm. He said to me:
'Oh my God, you're the son of the couple I killed three months ago!'
I froze, then asked:
'Why?'
He looked at me with cold, soulless eyes and said:
'The Ghoul. That's my name. Remember it well. I can't kill you now… but we will meet again.'
Then he disappeared into the darkness…
Later, I was adopted by a toxicology specialist… he educated me, raised me, made me who I am."
Adrian asked in disbelief:
"But what does all this have to do with Mr. Luther?"
Martin replied with a bitter smile:
"Did you see the engraving on the desk? The numbers 7, 12, 21?
They're the alphabetical order of the letters in GHOUL:
G = 7
H = 8
O = 15
U = 21
L = 12
Karl (examining the domino with number 5):
'Five… I didn't understand it at first, but… now it's clear.'
Adrian (nervously):
'Clear? What do you mean?'
Karl (looking at him sharply):
'Luther was the sixth victim… Maria was the fifth… so this domino tells us that the next will be number four.'
Adrian (whispers anxiously):
'He's… counting down?'
Karl (quietly):
'Exactly… when he reaches zero, there won't be a body… but something much worse.'
After the news of the two murders — Luther in the mansion, and the horrifying massacre of Maria on Lovestrad Street — panic spread through the streets of London like wildfire.
The playwright became the prime suspect, especially since he had close ties with Maria, who had worked with him.
The next morning, the police went to his home for questioning, but he presented a strong alibi; he had spent the entire night writing a new play titled "Witch Under the Moonlight" with the help of his maid, who confirmed his story. He also had no motive — Maria had contributed to his success as a talented actress.
At that moment, Karl had an idea. He decided to meet Martin after school.
Karl: "You saw the Ghoul, right? Describe his face to me."
Martin: "I didn't see it clearly; he was wearing a mask. The only thing I caught was his eyes…"
Karl: "What about his voice? Could you recognize it if you heard it again?"
Martin (excitedly): "Yes! What if I come with you to question the suspects? Maybe I'll recognize his voice."
Karl: "That's exactly what I was thinking."
The questioning of the remaining four suspects yielded no results. Days passed with no new crimes, casting a strange calm over London… no one realized it was the calm before the storm.
One sunny morning, Martin received a flood of letters; most were from academies and sports clubs… but one letter caught his attention.
It bore a strange signature and an unfamiliar symbol.
He opened the letter and read in a low voice:
"Hello Martin,
I hope you're enjoying London's air… which I will soon pollute.
Go to Gilmore Forest. You'll find a small house.
Tell no one. Bring no one.
My eyes are everywhere.
Don't worry, I won't kill you… yet. You're still useful to me.
If you don't arrive on time, someone will die there.
Signed: GWL"
Martin furrowed his brows.
"GWL"… yes, it's an abbreviation of "Ghoul"… the same symbol Arthur left before his death.
Martin (to himself): "My deduction was right… the Ghoul is the link between Arthur and Maria… but what's their connection to him?
No time for questions — I must hurry. The target might be the fourth victim!"
He took a carriage at reckless speed toward Gilmore Forest. When he arrived, he found a small, abandoned house — no furniture, no life… just dust.
But he sensed something strange… the place wasn't what it seemed.
Then he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned slowly, and there he was…
The Ghoul, in flesh and blood.
The mask, the outfit, the height — exactly as it was ten years ago.
Martin (stunned): "Is this… real?"
The Ghoul (coldly): "Very real."
Then he added:
"What did you think of the mansion murder? The poison effect was quicker than I expected… but no matter."
Martin (anxiously): "So you admit it… but why? What's your motive? Why Maria?!"
The Ghoul: "You could say… an old debt."
Martin: "Debt? What kind?"
The Ghoul: "You'll understand… when the time comes."
Martin: "You said I'm useful to you… that means I've been useful since childhood. But how? What do you want from me?"
The Ghoul: "Don't play detective. Just be patient."
Then he continued with a terrifying smile:
"By the way… your friend Jack? I killed him this morning. He was alone, it was a holiday… no one will find him quickly."
Martin's eyes widened, his heart trembled, a tear slid down his cheek without him noticing.
The Ghoul: "I killed him because he cornered me among people. That annoyed me. I hate seeing the police every time."
Martin (furiously): "How dare you…?!!"
He lunged at him, punches rained, but he was like a child before a giant.
The Ghoul kneed him in the stomach, followed by punches left and right, until blood dripped from Martin's nose and lip.
He grabbed Martin by the neck, squeezing hard until he nearly choked.
The Ghoul: "Work alone… if you cooperate with Karl or the inspector, I'll kill them."
(A light, devilish chuckle)
"I must go to Munich in four days… March 14.
I'll leave behind four victims. They might fall on the same day… or separately…
Show me what you've got."
He
dropped him to the ground and vanished into the darkness of the forest.
As Martin lost consciousness, he muttered in a broken voice:
"This monster… how can I stop him?..."