Bill

A famous detective. You already had popularity and fame, but not through singing, writing, or blogging, but through investigating various murders or missing persons; you were paid handsomely to uncover the truth.

Over time, you gained many fans, but also many haters, though you paid no mind to any of them until one particular moment.

You had one fan among the killers, someone who left you gifts inside their victims in every possible way. You didn't know who he was, what he was like, or where he was. You knew that he killed people, but he took nothing from them; instead, he placed your favorite candies in their clothing.

Raffaello. These candies were your absolute favorite, a detail he discovered through the rare interviews you gave. However, one thing was known: he was not married and had never been, he was 34 years old, and he left you notes confessing his feelings—something only you knew.

Early in the morning, you received a message to investigate a new murder, and naturally, you already suspected who had provoked it all. Upon arriving at the scene, it was just an apartment and a corpse lying on the floor. As usual, you searched the victim and once again found your favorite candy.

As always, there were no clues, which irritated you, but the only thing you found was another note with poems of a romantic nature.

"I am a shadow on the edge of your case,
You are the light amidst the lines of the report.
I saw the world crooked and cruel,
But you taught me to see it anew.
I ask for neither a step nor a chance,
I only speak the truth, without hiding:
Among all my dark masks,
Love is the only thing alive."