Somewhere else...
And sometime later...
Inside a cold, windowless room, the only sound was that of ragged breaths escaping with difficulty.
A young man sat on a heavy iron chair bolted firmly to the floor with thick chains.
His hands were bound behind his back, and his feet were tightly restrained, leaving him unable even to attempt standing.
Fresh signs of abuse marked his face.
Blue and black bruises stained his skin.
Small cuts, from which the blood had not yet dried, lined his features.
But physical pain was not what consumed him.
It was fear.
The kind of fear that had settled deep inside him from the very moment he woke up in this place.
He raised his head with difficulty.
For the hundredth time, he looked around.
Gray concrete walls.
A low ceiling.
A white lamp swaying slowly overhead.
And nothing else.
No visible door.
No window.
No clue whatsoever as to where he was.
He swallowed hard.
Then tried to steady his breathing.
He failed.
Because that sound returned.
The sound of metal scraping against the floor.
Distant...
Yet drawing closer.
His body froze.
His eyes widened.
And at once, his heart began pounding violently.
No...
No...
Not again...
The sound grew clearer.
Something heavy being dragged across the ground.
Something metallic.
Something he knew all too well.
Something he had seen before.
And before its owner even appeared...
The young man began screaming.
"No! Please! No!"
The echo of his voice bounced off the walls.
But no one answered.
Only that sound.
The sound of metal scraping across the floor.
Closer...
And closer...
Until it suddenly stopped.
Silence followed.
A heavy, suffocating silence.
Then came the jingle of keys.
Many keys.
It was followed by the sound of a lock opening.
Then another.
And another.
As though numerous doors stood between him and whoever was approaching.
And with every lock that clicked open...
The color drained further from his face.
Until at last, the door opened.
And the Purifier entered.
His steps were calm.
Unhurried.
As though he possessed all the time in the world.
He wore the same Blue Jay Mask.
The mask that had become a recurring nightmare in the dreams of his victims.
In his hand was a thick metal rod.
He deliberately dragged it behind him.
As though the sound itself were part of the punishment.
He stopped before the young man.
Then slowly bent forward.
Very slowly.
And said in a terrifyingly calm voice:
"You are now in my court."
The young man trembled.
He tried to say something.
But the words died in his throat.
Beneath the mask, the Purifier smiled.
Then added:
"I have good news..."
He paused for a moment.
"And bad news."
He stepped closer.
Until his voice became little more than a whisper.
"Which one would you like to hear first?"
The young man's lips trembled.
He tried to swallow.
Failed.
Then forced himself to speak.
"The... good news."
The Purifier tilted his head slightly.
As if satisfied with the answer.
"An expected choice."
He began circling the chair slowly.
One step...
Then another...
Like a predator stalking its prey.
"If the police succeed in solving the challenge I left for them..."
He stopped directly behind him.
"I'll set you free."
The young man's eyes widened.
For a brief moment...
A very brief moment...
Hope returned to his heart.
The Purifier noticed it instantly.
And that was why he smiled.
A smile no one could see.
Yet everyone seemed to feel.
Then he continued.
"As for the bad news..."
Silence filled the room.
One second.
Two.
Three.
As though he deliberately allowed the fear to grow before giving him the answer.
"The bad news..."
He leaned closer to the man's ear.
"...is that the police may fail."
The hope vanished from the young man's face as quickly as it had appeared.
In its place remained pure terror.
The Purifier walked back around to the front.
Then sat down in the metal chair opposite him.
He crossed one leg over the other.
Interlocked his fingers.
As though an ordinary business meeting were about to begin.
"As I told you before..."
he said calmly.
"You are now in my court."
He raised one finger.
"I am the prosecutor."
Then a second.
"I am the defense attorney."
Then a third.
"And I am the judge."
He paused briefly.
"And I am the jury as well."
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"A complete judicial system."
The young man didn't laugh.
His trembling only grew worse.
"Please..."
he whispered in a broken voice.
"Please let me go."
The Purifier stared at him for several seconds without replying.
Then he said,
"Did your victims ask you for the same thing?"
The man froze.
The Purifier continued.
"Did any of them beg you?"
Silence.
"Did they cry?"
Silence.
"Were they afraid?"
Silence.
The man lowered his head.
The Purifier slowly rose to his feet.
He walked toward a metal table in the corner of the room.
A thick file rested on top of it.
He picked it up and returned.
Then placed it on the table before him.
The sound alone made the man flinch.
The Purifier opened the first page.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Dozens of papers.
Dozens of photographs.
Dozens of names.
"Do you know the difference between you and me?"
he asked calmly.
The man didn't answer.
The Purifier turned another page.
"You forgot them."
He lifted a photograph.
"But I..."
His eyes rose to meet the man's.
"...remember every single one."
He placed the photograph in front of him.
A young girl.
Her face pale.
Her eyes swollen from crying.
The man immediately turned his face away.
"No."
he whispered.
"I don't want to see."
The Purifier slowly closed the file.
Then stood up.
And approached.
Until only a few steps separated them.
"Interesting."
he said quietly.
"When they were the ones crying..."
He gestured toward the photograph.
"...you looked."
He moved closer.
"And when it's your turn..."
His voice softened.
"...you turn away."
The man's breathing became rapid.
He felt as though the walls were closing in around him.
As though there was less air in the room.
As though everything were pressing down on his chest.
"I'm sorry..."
The words finally escaped him.
The Purifier raised an eyebrow beneath the mask.
"Really?"
No answer.
"Are you sorry because you did it..."
He leaned in slightly.
"...or because you got caught?"
The man opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
No answer came.
Because they both knew the truth.
Both of them.
The Purifier straightened once more.
Then returned to his chair.
He picked up a pen from the table.
And wrote something in the file.
"The defendant is hesitant."
he muttered, as though recording an official note.
Then he raised his head.
"Very well."
He closed the file.
"Let's begin the real trial."
The sound of the man's heartbeat grew louder.
He could hear it in his ears.
In his neck.
In his chest.
Everywhere.
As for the Purifier...
He seemed perfectly calm.
Calm to a terrifying degree.
Then he said,
"First question."
And paused.
As though the question itself were a death sentence.
"How many victims were there, really?"
Silence fell over the room.
And the only sound that remained was the man's trembling breath.