Winter, 1956
Berlin, Germany
The door opened with a dull creak, and Tom stepped out into the cold, followed by Oliver. A pale winter fog hung in the air, wrapping the street in a quiet stillness.
Tom was visibly furious. His fists were clenched, his breathing sharp.
"I can't believe it," he said, his voice filled with anger. "He's completely insane. He killed his own mother-for almost no reason. And the way he said it... 'I just felt like it, so I did!"
Oliver walked beside him, silent, lost in thought.
Tom glanced at him, irritation growing. "And you... how can you be so calm? You loved Yui. That kid killed her, and you're just walking like nothing happened. If I were in your place, I would' & lot him in the head."
Oliver suddenly stopped.
He turned his head slowly and fixed Tom with an intense gaze-sharp, almost piercing.
Tom fell silent.
After a moment, Oliver took a slow breath and said quietly,
"He was lying."
Tom frowned. "Lying? About what?"
"About everything," Oliver replied. "His answers... his expressions... everything was fabricated. None of it was real."
Tom's confusion deepened. "What does that even mean?"
Oliver looked ahead again, his voice low.
"I can't explain it completely... but I can say this much."
A brief pause.
"He regrets killing his mother."
The wind passed between them.
Tom didn't say another word.
14 July 1958
Tom's eyes slowly opened.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar. The room felt strange.
He blinked a few times, trying to gather his thoughts.
"Where…. am I?"
He sat up on the bed, confusion spreading across his face. Then, fragments of the previous night came back—drinks, laughter,
Robert's house.
"...l must've had too much," he muttered.
He assumed Robert had let him stay the night. Oliver must have gone home
Then suddenly, another thought came to him.
His wife.
Her preganacy.
Any day now.
A soft smile appeared on his face.
He stood up and walked toward the door.
But the moment he opened it—
He froze.
The house was no longer quiet.
Police officers filled the space.
Investigators moved around. Forensic teams examined the scene. Voices overlapped, footsteps echoed.
And then—
His eyes fell on the sofa.
Robert lay there.
Still.
Lifeless.
Tom instinctively moved forward, but a policeman stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
"What's going on?" Tom asked, his voice unsteady.
A familiar figure approached him.
"Boss Charles?" Tom caid. "What happened? What's going on with Robert?"
Charles looked at him for a moment before answering.
"He was poisoned."
A pause.
"He's dead."
The words struck Tom like a blade.
Dead?
Just last night, they were laughing together.
Drinking.
Talking.
And now—
Tom stood frozen, unable to process it.
Then a senior officer stepped forward.
"Tom Marley," he said firmly, "you are under arrest on suspicion for murder."
He reached for Tom's hand with handcuffs.
Tom immediately pulled his hand back.
"What the hell are you doing?!" he shouted.
"Why would I kill my own friend? I'm an investigator too-don't mess with me! Boss
—tell them!"
He looked at Charles.
But Charles didn't respond.
He was staring at the floor.
Something inside Tom broke.
Two officers stepped in, grabbing his arms.
The senior officer forced the handcuffs onto his wrists.
"I repeat," he said coldly, "you are under arrest on suspicion of murder. You have the right to remain silent.
Tom didn't resist anymore.
He couldn't.
One Hour Later
The station doors burst open.
Oliver rushed inside, breathing heavily. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Charles and Mira.
He walked straight toward them, his voice sharp with anger.
"How did you let this happen?!"
"Oliver, calm down-" Charles began.
But Oliver grabbed his collar.
"Robert is dead! And you arrested Tom?
How could you make such a mistake? I was there too! Tom was completely drunk when I left-you know him!.He would never do something like this! Boss, I didn't expect this from you-"
Slap.
The sound echoed across the station.
Mira flinched. Conversations stopped. All eyes turned toward them.
Oliver stood frozen.
For a moment, it felt like the world had snapped back into focus.
Charles grabbed Oliver's collar this time, his voice rising.
"Get yourself together and listen!"
Oliver didn't resist.
"All the doors were locked," Charles continued. "Windows, entrances— everything sealed from the inside. Only two
people were there.Robert... and Tom."
Oliver stayed silent.
"Robert was poisoned. No physical injuries.
No signs of struggle."
Charles leaned slightly closer.
"And the most important part-your reports."
Oliver blinked. "Reports?"
"Yes. You and Tom went for physical and neurological evaluations, didn't you?"
Oliver nodded slowly. "Y-yes... we were supposed to collect them."
Charles's expression hardened.
"You were completely fine. Physically and mentally."
A pause.
"But Tom….. wasn't."
Oliver frowned. "What do you mean?"
Charles spoke clearly.
"Tom is suffering from a neurological condition. He is experiencing dementia."
Oliver's eyes widened. "Dementia? What is that?"
"It's not a disease itself," Charles explained.
"It's a condition. In it, a person can lose track of time, awareness-even consciousness. For hours. During that time, they may talk, act, interact normally... but they are not aware of it. And when they return, they remember nothing."
A chill ran down Oliver's spine.
Something about this felt... wrong.
Familiar.
"But that still doesn't prove he killed
Robert," Oliver said quickly.
"I'm saying he might have," Charles replied.
"And he wouldn't even know it."
He paused.
"And the real question is... how much has he done... that he doesn't remember?"
Oliver felt the unease grow stronger, but he forced himself not to think further.
Because he knew—
The answer would be something he didn't want to face.
Charles took a deep breath.
"Listen. I don't fully believe it either. But all the evidence points in one direction."
He looked directly at Oliver.
"If you want to save Tom, you need to find the real culprit."
"If you want to save Tom, you need to find the real culprit."
Oliver hesitated. "M-me? Why me?"
"Because you're the most clever investigator this country have," Charles said firmly. "If you can't do it, no one can."
He raised four fingers.
"Four days. That's all I can give you. Until the 18th of July."
Oliver stared at him.
"Take Mira. Take one more man. Use everything you have."
Then Charles leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Find him and if you have to…..
Kill him."
Oliver looks directly in Charles Eyes
"I will." He says
Charles smiles.
"But before that." Oliver suddenly says
Charles and Mira looks at him
"I want to meet with Tom."
The corridor was silent.
Heavy.
Each step echoed as Oliver walked toward the cell, two policemen following behind him. The air felt colder here, suffocating—like the walls themselves carried the weight of the people locked inside them.
They stopped.
Tom sat alone on the narrow bench, his head lowered, hands clasped together. For a moment, he didn't notice.
Then—
He looked up.
And the moment he saw Oliver, his expression changed instantly. Relief. Hope. Desperation.
He stood up quickly and walked toward the bars.
Oliver stepped closer too.
The policemen lingered for a second, then quietly moved away, leaving them alone.
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
Oliver forced a small smile.
"Hey… uhm… what's up?"
Tom let out a dry laugh, but his eyes were restless.
"Oliver… please help me. How can these idiots even think I poisoned Robert?" He shook his head weakly. "It's almost funny… isn't it?"
Oliver's expression hardened slightly.
"Listen, Tom," he said, his voice steady. "I swear I'll get you out of this. But I need you to wait."
"Wait?" Tom's voice rose slightly. "What do you mean wait? You were there last night! You should've told them everything! We've been friends since school—you know me!"
"I did tell them," Oliver replied quickly. "But you know how it works. Evidence matters more than anything. And right now… the evidence isn't in our favor."
Tom stared at him, disbelief turning into frustration.
"So what am I supposed to do? Cooperate?" he scoffed. "Did you see the news? 'An investigator murders his former friend.' What kind of nonsense is that?"
He stepped closer to the bars, gripping them tightly.
"Listen… even if not for me, I would've stayed calm. But Lucy…" His voice cracked. "You know her, right? She's eight months pregnant. The baby could come any day now."
Oliver stayed silent.
"My family needs me," Tom continued, his voice shaking. "And I'm stuck here in this damn cell. I almost didn't come last night. Lucy told me to go—said it's just an old friends' meet-up. Just one night."
His grip tightened.
"And now this… Why? Why is this happening to me? I'm being framed, Oliver… at least you know that, right?"
Oliver reached forward and grabbed Tom's hand through the bars.
"Yes," he said firmly. "Yes, Tom. I understand."
He looked directly into his eyes.
"Listen to me. I swear—I will take care of your family if anything happens. You trust me, right?"
Tom nodded slowly, though uncertainty still lingered in his expression.
"Good," Oliver continued. "Now tell me—have they interrogated you yet?"
"No… not yet," Tom said. "They're planning to move me after that. Maybe tomorrow… I don't know."
"Alright. Then think carefully. What do you remember from last night? Anything at all."
Tom frowned, trying to recall.
"…Nothing," he said after a moment. "I don't remember anything after I got drunk."
Oliver leaned closer.
"Anything else? Think, Tom. Even something small."
Tom closed his eyes, forcing his mind back.
"…Yeah… maybe…" he muttered. "I remember… someone was taking me to a room. Holding my arm… I think it was Robert."
Oliver's eyes sharpened.
"Good. What else?"
Tom hesitated.
"…I'm not sure… it might just be a dream…" he said slowly. "But I think I heard shouting."
"Shouting?" Oliver asked quickly. "From who?"
"I… don't know," Tom shook his head. "It sounded like Robert. Angry. But I couldn't understand what he was saying. It's all… blurry."
Oliver stepped back slightly, thinking.
"Alright," he said after a moment. "That helps."
Tom looked at him.
"You're leaving?"
"Yeah," Oliver nodded. "But before that…"
He smiled faintly.
"Take care, brother."
Tom managed a small smile in return.
"You too."
Oliver turned and walked away without looking back.
⸻
The moment he stepped outside the station, the air felt different.
Sharper.
Colder.
He walked quickly, almost rushing, until he reached his car. Within seconds, the engine roared to life, and he sped off toward the forensic laboratory.
⸻
The facility stood silent under the afternoon sky.
Oliver showed his investigator badge at the gate and entered without delay.
Inside, the smell of antiseptic filled the air.
He moved quickly through the corridors until he reached the examination area.
There, in the waiting hall, he noticed a woman sitting quietly.
A child sat beside her.
Oliver slowed down.
"…Excuse me," he said gently.
The woman looked up.
Her eyes were red.
"Are you… Robert's wife?"
She nodded faintly. "Yes… are you—"
"I'm his friend," Oliver said softly. "I was there last night… but I left early."
The moment he said that, tears began to fall from her eyes again.
Oliver stepped closer.
"It's okay," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Listen to me. Whoever did this… I will find him. No matter what."
She covered her mouth, trying to hold back her sobs.
"Robert was one of my closest friends," Oliver continued. "Back in school… I didn't have many. But he was always there."
He paused.
"You know… the last thing he said to me was…"
She looked at him through her tears.
"What?"
Oliver's voice lowered.
"'See you in another life, brother.'"
The woman broke down completely.
Oliver stayed there, comforting her as best as he could.
⸻
A few minutes later, Oliver met the forensic doctor.
The report was brief.
Poison.
Administered through wine.
Progressive paralysis.
No external injuries.
Simple.
Clean.
Deadly.
It wasn't much.
But for Oliver—
It was enough.
⸻
He stepped out of the building.
The sunlight hit his face, but it brought no warmth.
He glanced at his watch.
12:34 PM
He stared at it for a second.
Then whispered to himself—
"The countdown begins now."
He got into his car.
And drove.
Chapter ends.
To be Continued.