Killer Sans

With trembling fingers, the ink of her diploma still wet, the girl pulled a cigarette from the pack. Her brain refused to believe what was happening: my boss, a mountain of a man with the face of a bulldog, had just scolded me as if she were already a criminal, not a freshly minted detective. "Spider lily." The word, like a poisonous insect, was already crawling through her head, weaving a web of horror and uncertainty. A killer. Girls. Curfew. And she, a graduate, thrown into this maelstrom. When a silhouette emerged from the shadows of the house across the street, she shuddered so hard that her cigarette almost fell out. Killer: Whoa, sorry, baby, didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to ask for a light. His voice was strangely soft, enveloping, not at all what she expected from a nighttime passerby in such a gloomy neighborhood. Her insides clenched with instinctive fear, but she already held out her lighter, trying to feign indifference. — "What are you doing here? There's a curfew... in connection with the blood lily case." The words escaped her before she had time to think about them. Patrol, investigate, avoid attracting attention—that's what we were taught. But my head was pounding with fatigue and the threat that had just befallen me. Killer smiled slightly, taking a drag from the light she handed him. The flame flared, illuminating his sharp features for a split second, and then died, leaving only the smoldering tip of the cigarette. Something flickered in his eyes—predatory, cold, but so quickly that she chalked it up to a trick of the light and fatigue. Killer: Curfew? Oh yeah, I forgot... I was thinking, you see. And you should be home, baby. The streets aren't the safest right now. Especially for sweet creatures like you. He paused, slowly exhaling smoke that dissolved into the damp night air. His gaze slid over me, lingering for a second longer than was proper, then returned to the smoldering cigarette. Killer: Blood Lily, you say? Interesting name.