1:58 a.m.

Central City.
Taka Square.
The night breeze was light.

The wind moved between the buildings, swept across the open plaza, passed over the stone stairway, and drifted through the empty corners beneath the lights. It was very late, yet the exterior lights of the shopping complex were still on, casting a cold glow over the ground like a layer of frost without warmth.

Security guard Tan Fook Soon had just completed one round of perimeter patrol.

He was fifty-two years old.
He had worked in security for more than twenty years.
He was not exactly fearless.
But he was not timid either.
He was used to late nights.
Used to emptiness.
And even more used to treating anything unusual as “a drunk,” “a quarrelling couple,” or “a student sitting around in a daze.”

He held a flashlight in his left hand.
A walkie-talkie hung from his right shoulder.
His steps were unhurried.
One after another.
Across the floor tiles.
Across the sound of the wind.

Then—

he saw her.

Halfway up the stairway.
Beside a square pillar.
A young woman sat there motionless, her back slightly leaning against the pillar, her head tilted to one side, both hands hanging naturally. From afar, she looked like someone resting from exhaustion. A little closer, she looked as though she had fallen asleep. Closer still—

something was wrong.

She was too still.

There was not even the slightest rise and fall in her chest.

Tan Fook Soon stopped walking.

The beam of his flashlight fell on her.
The light swept over her face.
It was pale.
Pale in an unnatural way.

“Miss?”

No response.

He frowned and stepped forward.

“Miss? The mall is already closed. You can’t stay here overnight.”

Still no response.

The wind came again.

That was when he caught a scent in the air.

It was faint.
Yet strangely clear.
Not the cloying sweetness of cheap roadside perfume.
Not the smell of fresh flowers from a florist either.
It was dry.
Like the green rustle released when freshly plucked fig leaves were crushed in one’s palm.
Layered within it was a bright trace of orange blossom.
Beneath that, a herbaceous woodiness.
And in the lingering base note, something light, fine, and slow—so slow it was almost impossible to catch—like the subtly sweet scent of white oleander left behind on one’s fingertips.

It smelled wonderful.

The first breath calmed the mind.

The second made the chest feel strangely hollow.

The third—

Tan Fook Soon felt a slight heaviness sink into his head. His temples tightened as if something were pressing gently against them. Instinctively, he held his breath for a moment and took half a step back. A flicker of unease crossed his eyes.

Strange.

Too strange.

Only then did he truly realize that the girl in front of him was not asleep at all.

He called out once more, his voice tighter than before.

“Miss!”

Still no response.

He swallowed hard, forced himself closer, and reached out to pat her shoulder.

“Miss, you—”

Her shoulder tilted.

Her whole body lost support.

She slid sideways from the pillar, as though the final string holding her upright had suddenly been cut.

Tan Fook Soon jumped back in shock, nearly dropping his flashlight.

“Hey! Hey!”

His face turned white. He crouched down but dared not touch her further. With trembling fingers, he checked near her nose and then felt for her neck. No breath. No pulse. Her eyes were half open, her pupils empty, fixed on the night as though frozen in a moment she had never had the chance to finish.

“Something’s happened… something’s happened…”

He grabbed the walkie-talkie on his shoulder, his voice completely changed.

“Control! Control! A young woman has collapsed on the east stairway, possibly not breathing! Call the police now! Call an ambulance now!”

A burst of static crackled through the radio.

“Received! Received! Handling it now!”

His shaking hand fumbled for his phone, and he dialed 999 directly.

“This is Taka Square! Central City Taka Square! There’s a young woman collapsed by the stairway, no response, possibly… possibly already dead! Please send someone quickly! Quickly!”

The night wind kept blowing.

The plaza remained brightly lit.

But the scent in the air was like an invisible thread, winding quietly beneath the lights, around the pillar, over the stairs, and around the numb back of Tan Fook Soon’s neck.

Eight minutes later.

Two police cars entered the outer perimeter of Taka Square one after the other. The doors opened, and four officers stepped out briskly.

Leading them was Acting Inspector Wong Siu Kit from Central City Division CID.

Twenty-nine years old.
Crisp in movement.
A face with no room for nonsense.

“Who made the report?”

“I did! I did!” Tan Fook Soon hurried forward, his voice not yet steady. “She was sitting there just now. I called her and she didn’t respond. When I touched her, she fell. I really didn’t move her much—I just patted her shoulder—”

“Calm down.” Wong Siu Kit raised a hand to stop him. “Tell me everything again from the beginning. What time did you first see her?”

Another officer had already moved quickly to the body and crouched for an initial check. The remaining two immediately stretched out police tape, sealing off the stairway and surrounding access points, establishing the first outer perimeter and dispersing a few late-night passersby who had been drawn by the commotion.

“You, take the east exit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You, mark out the CCTV coverage nearby. No one gets close.”

“Understood.”

The yellow police tape fluttered in the wind.
Red and blue lights flashed.
The once motionless plaza suddenly took on the shape of a crime scene.

Wong Siu Kit stepped closer to the body. One look, and his brow darkened.

Young.
Early twenties.
Clothes neat and intact.
No obvious external injuries.
Yet the posture was entirely unlike someone who had simply fallen asleep naturally.
Even stranger, there was a faint fragrance lingering in the air.

Not air freshener from the premises.
Not leftover cosmetic scent from the mall.
But a fragrance that felt… deliberately designed.

“Do you smell it?” the officer beside the body asked quietly.

Wong nodded without speaking.

He lowered his eyes to the victim’s belongings: a student-style shoulder bag, a mobile phone, and a student ID card lying near her feet.

The officer picked up the student card and glanced at it quickly.

“Preliminary identification of the deceased—Su Mei Mei, twenty-two years old, Computer Science student at Central City University.”

Wong Siu Kit’s gaze sharpened.

“Computer Science?”

“Yes.”

He did not respond immediately.

But in his mind, a vague point had just connected.

This was not the first time he had heard that combination.

Young woman.
University student.
Computer Science.
No obvious wounds.
A lingering scent at the scene.

The wind passed through the police tape.

Then more headlights cut into the plaza.

These were not ordinary police vehicles.

They belonged to the Forensic Science Division.

The first car stopped.
The second pulled in right behind it.

Dr. Cheng Kok Ming, head of the Scene of Crime & Quality Management Section, stepped out with three team members. At the same time, Sum Kwok Tong from the Chemical Sciences Section arrived with four team members, quickly unloading equipment cases, gas-sampling devices, fibre collection kits, and portable analytical instruments.

Dr. Cheng Kok Ming was fifty-seven.
He wore rimless glasses.
He did not speak quickly.
He looked at people as though examining tissue samples.
Any emotion brought before him was first layered, then classified.

“Who is the initial officer in charge of the scene?”

“Central City Division, Wong Siu Kit.” Wong stepped forward. “The scene has just been sealed. The body has not been moved. Preliminary identity confirmed. There is an abnormal scent in the air.”

“Good.” Dr. Cheng gave a single nod. “From this moment onward, the body, surrounding traces, air samples, and all contact interfaces will be handled as a Level One sensitive contamination scene. Without my authorization, no one is to touch her.”

On the other side, Sum Kwok Tong inhaled lightly and his expression darkened.

“This smell is not normal.”

His voice was not loud.
Yet everyone nearby turned to look at him.

“It smells like perfume,” one member of the Chemical Sciences team said.

“It does.” Sum replied evenly. “But it is too clean. It feels as if it was deliberately made to seem like perfume.”

Dr. Cheng had already put on gloves and bent down to examine the victim’s face, fingers, collar, hair, and the fine traces near her lips.

“Record the pupil condition.”

“Yes.”

“Collect volatile samples from the nasal cavity, lips, behind the ears, and the side of the neck first.”

“Yes.”

“Sectioned sampling from the stair surface, pillar, contact points on the clothing, and the shoulder strap of the bag. All of it.”

“Understood.”

Forensic lamps lit up.

White light swept over the stairway.

Every inch of the ground looked as though it had been stripped open again.

Some searched for footprints.
Some searched for fingerprints.
Some collected air samples.
Some measured the angles between the body and the pillar, the stair edge, and the bag.

Every movement was light.
Steady.
Like a silent group working through the night, using tweezers to pull truth piece by piece out of the darkness.

Wong Siu Kit stepped aside and watched the forensic teams take over.

Then the plaza was washed once more in headlights.

This time, there was no siren.

And yet it was more impossible to ignore than flashing police lights.

A dark command vehicle.
A black SUV.

The doors opened.

The first man out was Yong Tin Kei.

Commander of the Special Investigation Division.
Fifty-eight years old.
Lean and compact.
Carrying quiet authority.
His suit jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a dark shirt beneath.
He did not walk quickly, yet each step seemed to land directly on other people’s nerves.

The moment his eyes fell upon the scene, he scanned three things first.

The body.
The stairway.
The direction of airflow.

Only then did he scan the people.

Chang Hsin-Yan followed behind him.
Short hair.
Composed gaze.
A clipboard already in hand.
She was never the first person to speak at a scene, but she was always the first to see the layer others missed.

Lee Wai Hing carried an equipment case.
Gentle in expression.
Steady in stride.
Like a nail.
Wherever he was set, that place would hold.

Yim Bing was dressed in sharp plainclothes, her eyes like blades.
She did not stand at the front.
Yet it felt as though a second layer of lethal precision was concealed beyond the outer perimeter behind her.

Tan Chih Lin wore thin-framed glasses, a tablet already lit in his hand.
The moment he stepped out, he began linking into nearby surveillance systems and traffic-flow data.

Kim Min Jung moved directly toward a higher vantage point, ready to take over electronic surveillance playback, nearby camera stitching, and timeline reconstruction.

Yong Tin Kei stopped before Wong Siu Kit.

“Commander Yong.” Wong straightened instinctively in greeting.

“The situation.”

“At 1:58 a.m., a security guard found the deceased, Su Mei Mei, seated on the stairway, leaning against a pillar and motionless. On contact, she collapsed. About ten minutes have passed since the report. No obvious external injuries. Abnormal fragrance remains at the scene. Preliminary identification confirms she is a twenty-two-year-old Computer Science student at Central City University.”

When Yong Tin Kei had heard it all, he asked only one question:

“Have the earlier case files been pulled up?”

Wong froze for a split second.

So he knew.

Tan Chih Lin answered from beside them, “Already synced to the local terminal. First case in January 2024—Lin Bing, twenty-two years old, third-year Computer Science student at East City University, found at the stairway of East City Yokoso Shopping Centre, leaning against a pillar, motionless. Second case six months ago—Hong Yu, twenty-one years old, third-year Computer Science student at West City University, found at the stairway of West City Westin Hotel, leaning against a pillar, motionless. Third case one month ago—Tan Xin Yi, third-year Computer Science student at East City University, found at the stairway of East City Yokoso Shopping Centre, leaning against a pillar, motionless. Common scene features in all cases: similar lingering scent, no obvious signs of violence.”

The scene went still.

Even Wong Siu Kit felt a chill run down his back.

Four cases.

The exact same seated posture.
The exact same “no wounds.”
The exact same scent.

This was no coincidence.
This was a pattern.

Chang Hsin-Yan lowered her head to scan the tablet, her voice soft.

“Similar age range. Female. University students. Computer Science background. All found beside pillars on stairways in public buildings. The killer is not choosing locations at random. He is placing them.”

“Placing?” Wong asked instinctively.

Chang lifted her eyes toward the victim.

“Like an exhibit. Or a signature.”

The wind passed through again.

That scent lingered, faint but undeniable.

Yong Tin Kei approached the edge of the scene without crossing the core contamination line drawn by Dr. Cheng. He simply stood just outside the controlled boundary, quietly observing the way Su Mei Mei’s body had fallen after losing support.

After a long moment, he spoke.

“Hsin-Yan, work up the victim’s social network and psychological profile. Wai Hing, assist forensics—see whether there’s any mechanical contact or concealed point of injection. Yim Bing, take over perimeter screening and identify suspicious observation points. Chih Lin, dig out every digital overlap among the four victims. Schools, courses, clubs, forums, projects, cloud accounts, darknet mirrors—everything. Min Jung, pull all citywide surveillance and commercial camera footage. Focus on the three hours before the victim arrived and all reverse-direction movement targets within fifteen minutes after the incident.”

“Yes.”
“Understood.”
“Received.”

The orders dropped.

Each person moved at once.

This was not the tempo of ordinary detectives.

This was the rhythm of SID.

Like a net.
Cast wide first.
Then tightened inward toward the center.

Dr. Cheng rose and turned to Yong Tin Kei, giving a slight nod.

“Commander Yong.”

“Dr. Cheng.”

There was no unnecessary exchange.

None was needed at a scene like this.

“Preliminary thoughts?” Yong asked.

“At the scene, there are no obvious signs of struggle. The victim’s posture is consistent with a sudden loss of function followed by a fixed downward slide. We cannot rule out sudden suppression of the nervous system, respiratory system, or cardiac conduction.” Dr. Cheng glanced toward Sum Kwok Tong’s side. “But what is truly abnormal is this scent.”

Sum Kwok Tong came over just then, removing one glove.

“We have detected multiple layers of volatile organic compounds in the air sample. The ratios are highly unnatural. This is not the diffusion structure of normal commercial perfume. It resembles a precisely engineered inducement-release formula.”

“Inducing what?” Wong Siu Kit could not help asking.

Sum looked at him.

“That requires testing. But at the very least, it does not exist merely to smell pleasant.”

Yong Tin Kei’s eyes darkened.

“Could it cause dizziness?”

“Possibly.”

“Could it kill?”

“Possibly.”

“Could it leave only the scent and no visible injury?”

Sum paused, then answered slowly, “If the maker is truly a chemical expert, and the carrier system is sophisticated enough… yes.”

The moment that sentence landed, the scene fell silent except for the soft hum of equipment.

After a while, Lee Wai Hing returned from the other side and lowered his voice.

“Yang sir, at the junction behind the victim’s left ear and the side of the neck, there is an extremely faint point. Barely visible to the naked eye. It could be a needle mark, or a trace left by some ultra-thin interface after brief contact.”

Dr. Cheng turned immediately.

“Mark the location. High-magnification photography. Local tissue sampling.”

Chang Hsin-Yan stood to one side, watching Su Mei Mei’s face. 

Then she said:

“She was not chosen at random.”

Yong turned to her.

“Speak.”

“The first three cases and this one—every victim is from Computer Science. That is not coincidence. The killer doesn’t just want young women. He wants this type of person.”

“Why this type?” Wong asked.

“Either they knew something,” Chang said evenly. “Or they touched something. Or else—someone had seen them.”

Tan Chih Lin looked up from behind his tablet and added, “I suggest we cross-link all four victims’ campus projects, competition rosters, professors, exchange programs, inter-university hacking contests, research assistantships, and part-time work. Computer Science is not just coding. They may have had access to databases, encryption models, city-system interfaces, or even some test environment they were never supposed to touch.”

Yong Tin Kei did not answer at once.

His gaze rested on the pillar.

The pillar was cold.
The stairs were cold.
The lights were cold.

Only the fragrance was gentle beyond reason.

In this world, many of the deadliest things first make people relax.

He spoke slowly:

“This is not simply serial murder.”

Everyone looked at him.

“This is an experiment.”

The wind moved through the plaza.

The words drove into the scene like a blade.

Dr. Cheng did not argue.
Neither did Sum Kwok Tong.

Because they both knew—such precision, such consistency, such scenes that looked almost cloned from one another… behind them there was either an extremely cold mind, or a process that had already matured.

And a mature process never exists for the sake of killing only one person.

3:12 a.m.

The initial forensic survey of the scene came to a pause.

Su Mei Mei’s body was transported under full containment to the forensic center. All samples, surveillance copies, scene photographs, volatile collection tubes, and contact evidence were simultaneously transferred into the Special Investigation Division’s joint analysis program.

Special Investigation Division Operations Room.

All lights were on.

The wall of screens displayed data from all four cases. The photographs of four young women were shown side by side in the cold light, like four lives abruptly cut short.

Lin Bing.
Hong Yu.
Tan Xin Yi.
Su Mei Mei.

Four photographs.
Four smiles.
Four nights that ended beside stairways.

Yong Tin Kei stood before the screens. He did not sit.

Dr. Cheng removed his gloves and placed them beside the table.

“The preliminary forensic assessment is that, at least in external morphology, the four cases show a high degree of common origin. If the autopsy findings match, they can be formally consolidated.”

“And the scent?” Yong asked.

Sum Kwok Tong projected the preliminary spectra onto the screen.

“The sample contains a highly complex overlap of botanical and synthetic molecules. Notes of fig leaf, orange blossom, herbaceous wood, and an almost undetectable yet persistent sweet base note. An ordinary perfumer can reproduce the resemblance, but not a functional structure like this.”

“Functional structure,” Chang Hsin-Yan repeated.

Sum nodded.

“Yes. It is disguised as a luxury perfume. But I suspect its real purpose is not fragrance retention. It is transmission.”

“Transmission of what?” Lee Wai Hing asked.

“Toxicity. Signal. Induced response. Perhaps even a carrier.” Sum studied the spectrum and spoke slowly. “I cannot draw a final conclusion yet, but this substance absolutely does not belong in any environment where an ordinary person might breathe it in.”

For a moment, no one in the operations room spoke.

The cold light from the screens reflected across every face.

Yong Tin Kei braced both hands on the conference table, his gaze hard as iron.

“From this point onward, the case will be taken over in full by the Special Investigation Division. Codename—”

He paused.

He looked at the scene photo of Su Mei Mei on the screen, at the deathly silence still clinging to the pillar beside her.

Then he said, one word at a time:

“Death in the Scented Shadow.”

No one objected.

Because the name fit too well.

The scent—
arrives first.
The soul—
breaks after.

Dr. Cheng said slowly, “Commander Yong, this is not ordinary poisoning. If someone has truly disguised a lethal chemical agent as a high-end perfume, and is using public venues as release points, the consequences will not stop at four victims.”

“I know,” Yong replied.

“What level of threat do you suspect?”

Yong raised his eyes.

“Cross-border. Organized. Experimental attack.”

Sum Kwok Tong looked at him, his expression darkening as well.

“If you are right, the person behind this will not be some simple perfumer.”

“I never said he was simple.”

Yong Tin Kei straightened.

His voice was not loud.
Yet the entire operations room seemed to lock into place.

“I want to know—who made it. Why they chose these girls. Where the next strike will be. And exactly how many people this scent is meant to kill.”

At that moment, it was as if the camera slowly pulled back.

In the operations room, the lights burned like daylight.
Outside, the night was not yet over.
Paradise Island still lay beneath the illusion of peace.
No one knew that an invisible thread of fragrance had already begun drifting in from the dark.

And the real war—

was only beginning now.