Chapter 100

MANNIE’S POV

The balcony was quiet.

The night air drifted slowly through the thin curtains behind me. Cool. Damp. Carrying the faint smell of rain and street dust.

I sat on the old wooden chair near the railing.

My elbows rested on my knees. My hands hung loosely between them.

I closed my eyes.

And David’s face appeared in my mind again.

The way he looked at Jay earlier.

That small smile.

That quiet pride.

Like a father looking at his son.

My fingers tightened around the armrest.

Jay didn’t notice.

Or maybe he did.

Jay had been laughing at the table.

Talking.

Joking.

But every time David’s name came up… something in his eyes changed.

A small spark.

A quiet curiosity.

My stomach twisted.

That child…

He was too bright.

Too observant.

Sooner or later he would ask questions.

Questions I didn’t want to answer.

I exhaled slowly.

Then another face appeared in my thoughts.

Lilith.

Her pale skin.

Her lifeless eyes.

The cold room.

The locked door.

My fingers trembled slightly.

I rubbed my temples.

Why did she have to die like that?

And why did the whole thing feel so wrong?

A locked room.

No weapon.

No witness.

No forced entry.

Every explanation sounded incomplete.

Like a puzzle with missing pieces.

The balcony door creaked softly behind me.

I didn’t turn around.

The footsteps were light.

Soft.

Careful.

Small.

Only one of my children walked like that.

Tera.

She stepped onto the balcony slowly.

Her thin arms wrapped around a small blanket.

She walked toward me quietly.

Then she stopped beside my chair.

“Mom.”

Her voice was gentle.

I opened my eyes.

Tera looked up at me.

Her big eyes were calm.

Too calm for a child her age.

I forced a small smile.

“What are you doing awake?”

She lifted the blanket slightly.

“I saw you sitting here.”

Then she climbed onto the empty chair beside me.

Her small feet curled under her.

The blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a tiny cloak.

“You looked sad.”

Her words were simple.

But they hit my chest harder than I expected.

I looked away toward the street.

“I’m fine.”

Tera tilted her head.

“You say that when you are not fine.”

I chuckled softly.

“You’re very direct tonight.”

She shrugged.

“You taught us not to lie.”

I sighed.

Then I leaned back in my chair again.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Tera didn’t answer immediately.

Her small hands folded on her lap.

Her eyes studied my face quietly.

Then she asked softly.

“Are you thinking about Lilith?”

My shoulders stiffened.

I turned toward her slowly.

“Why would you think that?”

Tera pointed toward the table beside my chair.

A newspaper lay there.

The front page showed the headline about the locked-room murder.

Of course.

I had forgotten it was there.

“I read it,” Tera said.

My eyebrows rose slightly.

“You read the whole article?”

She nodded.

“Three times.”

Of course she did.

Tera loved puzzles.

Mysteries.

Logic problems.

Anything that required careful thinking.

I rubbed my forehead again.

“That story is not something children should worry about.”

Tera leaned forward slightly.

“But it doesn’t make sense.”

I looked at her.

Her eyes shone with quiet excitement.

The kind of excitement detectives had when they smelled a mystery.

I sighed again.

“Tera…”

But she continued anyway.

“The door was locked from inside,” she said.

“The windows were closed.”

“There was no weapon in the room.”

“And no fingerprints.”

Her small fingers tapped lightly on the chair.

“That means the killer planned everything very carefully.”

I stared at her.

“You sound very sure.”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Tera leaned back slightly.

Her expression became thoughtful.

“Because accidents leave mistakes.”

“But professionals remove them.”

My eyes narrowed slightly.

“Explain.”

She lifted one finger.

“First… the door.”

She pointed toward the balcony door behind us.

“If someone locks a door from inside, it means the killer had to leave another way.”

I crossed my arms.

“Like the window.”

Tera shook her head.

“The article said the windows were sealed.”

“Yes.”

“So the killer didn’t leave through the window.”

She lifted a second finger.

“That means the room wasn’t truly locked.”

I frowned slightly.

“What do you mean?”

Tera leaned forward.

“There are tricks.”

“What tricks?”

She counted on her fingers.

“Thread locking.”

“Magnetic locks.”

“Or delayed locks.”

I blinked.

“Thread locking?”

“Yes.”

She grabbed a loose thread from the blanket.

Then she pointed toward the door.

“If someone ties a thin thread to the lock… they can pull it shut from outside.”

She mimed the motion.

“Then they cut the thread.”

My brows rose.

“That’s… possible.”

Tera nodded.

“It happened before.”

“Where?”

“In Japan,” she said.

“A famous case used fishing wire to pull the lock closed.”

My mouth opened slightly.

Then closed again.

She continued calmly.

“Second… the weapon.”

I leaned forward.

“Yes?”

“If the weapon wasn’t found… that means the killer took it with them.”

“That’s obvious.”

Tera shook her head.

“No.”

“It means the killer was calm.”

I blinked again.

“What?”

She explained patiently.

“Most people panic after killing someone.”

“They drop things.”

“They run.”

“But this killer cleaned everything.”

“Removed the weapon.”

“Locked the door.”

“And left quietly.”

She looked straight at me.

“That’s not a first-time killer.”

The words sent a small chill through my chest.

I crossed my arms tighter.

“So you think this person killed before.”

Tera nodded.

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

She lifted a third finger.

“The timing.”

“What about it?”

“The article said the neighbors heard nothing.”

“No scream.”

“No struggle.”

She paused.

“That means the victim trusted the killer.”

My stomach twisted.

“Or the killer attacked suddenly.”

Tera shook her head.

“If it was sudden, the body would show signs of struggle.”

“But the report said there were none.”

She lowered her hand.

“So the victim let the killer close.”

My throat felt dry.

“Someone she knew.”

Tera nodded.

“Yes.”

A slow silence settled between us.

The night wind rustled the curtains softly.

Somewhere downstairs a dog barked.

I looked at Tera again.

Her small face looked calm.

But her eyes burned with curiosity.

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“I want to see the crime scene.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“The police station will investigate it.”

Her voice grew excited.

“I can help.”

I stared at her.

“You want to go to the police station?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Yes.”

“I can analyze the evidence.”

“Tera.”

“I’m good at puzzles.”

“Tera.”

She leaned closer.

“Maybe I can find the trick the killer used.”

My chest tightened.

“No.”

The word came out sharper than I intended.

Tera froze.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“But—”

“No.”

I shook my head firmly.

“You’re too young.”

Her shoulders lowered slowly.

“But I could help.”

“You’re five.”

“I know.”

“And you’re still a child.”

Her fingers curled into the blanket.

“But logic doesn’t depend on age.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“Tera…”

Her voice grew quieter.

“I just want to try.”

The disappointment in her eyes stabbed at my chest.

I sighed slowly.

Then I reached out.

My hand rested gently on her head.

Her soft hair brushed my fingers.

“You’re very smart.”

She didn’t look up.

“I know.”

“But being smart doesn’t mean you should walk into danger.”

Her brows furrowed.

“Danger?”

“Yes.”

I leaned closer.

“Real killers are not puzzles in a book.”

“They are dangerous people.”

“They hurt others.”

My voice softened.

“And I won’t let my daughter stand in front of someone like that.”

Tera looked up slowly.

Her eyes searched my face.

“But someday… I want to catch bad people.”

My chest tightened again.

“Why?”

She answered simply.

“So they can’t hurt anyone else.”

Silence filled the balcony.

My fingers tightened slightly in her hair.

Then I sighed.

“You really are serious about this.”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

I studied her small face.

The determination there was real.

Too real.

Finally I smiled faintly.

“Alright.”

Her eyes brightened.

“Really?”

I shook my head.

“Not now.”

Her excitement faded slightly.

“But someday.”

I squeezed her shoulder gently.

“When you grow up.”

“When you are strong enough.”

“When you can protect yourself.”

I paused.

“Then I will support your dream.”

Tera stared at me.

Her eyes slowly softened.

Then she nodded quietly.

“Okay, Mom.”