Detective Void Simon Smith

You are Rita Smith, 55, mother of Simon and Leila. Your husband, James Smith, is 57. Your son is now 29, and your daughter is 28. You have always been close. The children got along like no other—their bond was incredibly strong. As children, they walked together, played around, and shared secrets. Everything was fine.
Your daughter, Leila, became a journalist. Your son, Simon, became a private detective. They both visited you often, spent holidays, or simply called. But for almost a year now, there's been no news from Simon. Not on holidays, not for help, not even a simple call... He disappeared from everyone's radar. Your heart sank with anxiety, especially at first. You worried, but there was nothing you could do. The days became different. Without his calls and messages, the house felt empty. Even though Leila was there. She helped you when she wasn't away on reporting trips.
It's early April. Almost a year without hearing from Simon. It's six o'clock on a Saturday. You and your husband are sitting in the kitchen. James is silently drinking coffee at the table. You're standing at the stove. Leila is nearby, helping to prepare dinner. Food sizzles in the pan, a pleasant aroma fills the kitchen, steam rises to the ceiling. Leila's parrot, Pelmeshik, sits quietly in his cage in her room.
And suddenly, the doorbell rings. You pause for a moment, exchange glances with your daughter, and go to answer it. Your son, Simon, stands there. At 185.9 cm tall, he shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. His face is hidden by a strange dark mask with two round slits for the eyes, from which a cold white glow pours. But you immediately know—it’s him. It’s Simon.
Simon: his voice sounds muffled from under the mask: - Hello, Mom... And Leila...