Log 02
Absent Cause
The next morning, the weather was unusually clear.
The sky over New City was a piercing blue, and even the wind carried a clean scent.
I hated this kind of weather.
Days that were too clean always hide something dirty.
The temporary office of MCS was on the fifth floor of New City Bayshore Police Station. The room wasn’t large—one whiteboard, one computer, one table, and five chairs.
Through the window, the sea was visible. In the distance, cargo ships moved slowly across the water like a silent funeral procession.
The cup of coffee on the table had gone cold.
It had been left there from last night.
The aroma had faded, leaving only bitterness.
At 8:55 a.m., the door opened.
Lee Wai Hing walked in first, still holding a newspaper.
“Front page,” he said, placing it on the table.
“Teenage Girl Found Dead at Taka Square — No Visible Injuries, Police Investigating.”
The photograph was blurry, but the steps and that beam of light were enough to make my stomach sink.
“The media has a sharp nose,” I said.
“They’re always one step ahead of us,” Wai Hing sighed. “They just don’t know where that step is supposed to land.”
Then Chan Chee Yan came in, looking uneasy.
“Sir, we discovered something strange last night.”
He placed a stack of documents on the table.
“Lam Chi Ying’s laptop login records show that at 12:38 a.m., her account was accessed through a brief remote login.”
“Remote?”
“Yes, from an external IP. After tracing it, we found the source in Changhuat District. But at that time she had already left the school. Her phone signal placed her on Meilin Road.”
“Someone hacked her computer?”
“That’s possible. But the person stayed only two minutes. They didn’t download or delete anything. They only opened a folder named ‘The End of the Dream.’”
I frowned.
“What was inside the folder?”
“Empty.”
An empty folder was more unsettling than a full one.
Because if someone spent time opening something blank, it meant that blank space once held something.
At 9:00 a.m., Lee Mun Tseng arrived. She wore a simple shirt, her hair tied back. Her expression was calm, but the fatigue behind it was obvious.
“Forensics sent the results,” she said, placing a file folder on the table.
When I opened it, I caught a faint floral scent.
“The powder composition?” I asked.
“It’s primarily plant extract. It contains jasmine, white sandalwood, and an unknown chemical structure. Toxicology analysis shows that this compound can rapidly activate alpha waves in the brain, forcing the subject into a dream state.”
She paused.
“In simple terms, it can make a person dream while they are awake.”
I looked up at her.
“You’re sure?”
“Forensic reports don’t lie.”
“Can it cause death?”
“Not necessarily. But if taken in excessive amounts, the brain may fall into a deep sleep that cannot be awakened. The heart stops, but brain signals continue…”
Her voice slowed.
“It’s like dying inside a dream.”
The room fell silent.
Outside, I could hear the sea wind striking the glass.
“Where would a chemical like this come from?” Wai Hing asked.
“The report shows that some components resemble hypnotic therapy drugs currently being researched in Japan, but they haven’t been released yet.”
“Illegal experimental drugs?”
“Possibly. Or someone obtained a sample.”
I picked up the photograph—Lam Chi Ying sitting on the steps, her expression peaceful.
“What if she wasn’t murdered,” I said quietly, “but guided to die?”
“Guided?” Mun Tseng looked at me.
“As if someone made her believe the dream was better than reality.”
Wai Hing leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette.
“That’s psychological manipulation. Not every killer uses a knife. Some use belief.”
After thinking for a moment, I turned to Chan Chee Yan.
“When you checked her social accounts, did you find any unusual messages?”
“Yes,” he said, quickly opening his laptop. “In the week before her death, she had frequent conversations in a private chatroom called ‘Beyond the Dream.’ The other account was named ‘Solus.’”
“Did you trace who it is?”
“The IP location is local, but routed through a VPN, so there’s no real identity. But I captured several parts of the conversation.”
He turned the screen toward us.
Solus: You said you always dream of that place.
Lam Chi Ying: The steps outside Takashimaya. Every time I’m sitting there.
Solus: That is a door.
Lam Chi Ying: A door?
Solus: A door to the place you truly want to go. All you need to do is learn to let go.
“Let go…” Mun Tseng murmured softly, as if tasting the words.
“This isn’t the kind of language a typical internet scammer uses. The tone is too gentle, and too deep,” she frowned. “Like someone who understands psychology.”
“Or someone who understands the human heart,” I said.
Wai Hing sighed.
“These days, you don’t need a knife to kill someone. A single sentence can do it.”
He flicked ash from his cigarette and looked at me.
“That powder might have come from this person too?”
“Investigate it,” I said. “Track experimental drug distribution, black-market channels, university medical labs—everything.”
I paused.
“And Lam Chi Ying’s parents.”
At 2:00 p.m., Man Man and I went to the victim’s home.
It was an aging HDB flat in Man Tai District. The exterior walls were gray and weathered. The balcony was crowded with old books and flowerpots.
When the mother opened the door, her eyes were hollow, as if something inside her had been completely emptied.
“Officer… did my daughter suffer?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“We’re still investigating.”
Her photographs hung on the living room wall. She smiled brightly in them, her eyes filled with innocent light.
“Has she been emotionally unstable lately?” I asked. “Or dreaming about strange things?”
The mother hesitated.
“Dreams? She did say… recently she kept dreaming about a door.”
“A door?”
“Yes. A white door, slightly open. There was light inside. She said the light had a scent… very fragrant.”
My heart tightened.
Fragrance.
Again.
Her father handed me a small box.
“We found this in the drawer beside her bed.”
Inside was a small glass vial filled with pink powder.
I opened the lid.
The familiar scent rushed out.
Jasmine. White sandalwood. And that sweet, bitter undertone.
Man Man frowned.
“This matches the forensic report?”
“Most likely,” I said, closing the lid. “We’ll take it back for testing.”
As we left, the mother spoke softly at the door.
“She said someone was waiting for her in the dream.”
“Who?”
“She said… it was the light.”
At 7:00 p.m., we returned to the police station.
Chan Chee Yan and Lee Mun Tseng were staring at the screen.
“Sir, the chatroom ‘Beyond the Dream’ has just been shut down,” Chee Yan said.
“Shut down?”
“Yes. The server was completely wiped—even the backups.”
“Someone moved before we did.”
A chill ran through me.
Mun Tseng added quietly,
“I compared the linguistic style of ‘Solus’ using psychological profiling models. There’s a high probability that the person has a background in clinical psychology or hypnotherapy.”
“Are there any local research institutions studying that?” I asked.
“Yes. The psychological laboratory affiliated with New City University Medical School is currently conducting research on induced conscious dreaming.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“Dr. Lau Zi Him.”
I wrote down the name.
“Tomorrow morning,” I said, “we’ll go see him.”
Late at night, everyone gradually left.
I sat alone in the office.
Outside the window, the sea reflected the city lights.
That fragrance still seemed to linger faintly in the air.
Sometimes I wondered whether death was simply another kind of dream.
If dreams had light, scent, and someone waiting… would anyone still want to wake up?
I placed the small vial of powder on the desk.
Under the dim light, the bottle seemed to glow faintly pink, as if it were alive.
I reached out and switched off the light.
The room fell into darkness.
At that moment, I thought I heard something—
A faint sound.
Almost like breathing.
And I knew.
It wasn’t just fragrance.
It was a call.