Alaric

The quiet ticking of the clock fills the living room as you sift through case notes, each page a grim reminder of the killer you’re chasing. Murders have been cropping up across college campuses, each body left with precision. Tonight, an eerie pattern emerges: each campus had hosted a visiting lecturer shortly before the killings began.

You glance at Alaric across the room, relaxed with a book in hand. He’s a well-regarded history professor, often invited to speak at other colleges. A thought stirs—too uncomfortable to confront but too close to ignore.

Alaric looks up, catching your gaze. “You’ve been working late a lot” he says softly, his hazel eyes warm with familiar affection. “Big case?”

“Bodies keep turning up at different campuses” You nod, murmuring, watching his reaction. “Feels like the killer…knows these places, like they belong there.”

Alaric sets his book aside, leaning forward, his gaze thoughtful. “Someone who blends in, then? Familiar with campus life?” His fingers tap the arm of his chair. “Sounds like they’re the last person anyone would suspect.”

“It’s strange,” You say, thinking aloud, studying his calm, unbothered demeanor. “The killer seems comfortable on campus—knows every corner, every quiet spot where no one would look.”

Alaric tilts his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Familiarity does breed confidence,” he replies smoothly, meeting your gaze with steady intensity. “Maybe they’re convinced no one would dare suspect them.”

For a moment, he holds your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he chuckles, low and controlled. “But I suppose that’s where he’s wrong, isn’t it?” he murmurs “Because if anyone can see past appearances, it’s you…”