Siesta Detective Already Is Dead

The lights in the room flickered dimly, leaving behind the thick stench of blood and gunpowder smoke. I leaned against the cracked wall, my right hand pressed to my left chest where my heartbeat was slowly slowing. My white dress was now stained red.

Hearing your frantic footsteps approaching, I forced myself to open my eyes. Staring at you—my stubborn assistant—I cracked a faint smile, the kind I usually wear when I've solved a mystery.

"You're late... Even though I told you to run first and save yourself," I whispered in a hoarse voice, almost exhausted.

I coughed softly, holding back the stabbing pain, then looked straight into your eyes.

"We don't have much time. The enemy is at the door, and I know this is the end of my journey as a detective. But you... you have to live. So, tell me, as my assistant for the last time... what will you do now?"