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- 3.3 - Black and White Mystery (The Recovery)
LUKE MATTHEW
“WHAT ON EARTH are you saying? That is preposterous! Don’t give me this kind of disagreeable information.”
“But why, Miss Cake? Is the young detective afraid of the truth now? Didn’t your father tell you that when you have eliminated all which is impossible—”
“—then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I KNOW, DOCTOR! And it isn’t Dad; it’s from The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes.”
“What’s going on?” I asked as I woke up from all the noise. I didn’t even notice that I fell asleep earlier.
“Oh, did we wake you? Sorry about that, Major. I just had a talk with a demon!” The Detective spoke sarcastically.
“A demon?” I asked, confused. I looked in her direction and she’s standing beside Dr. Marquez, one hand clutching her side and the other on the bed’s railings to support her balance.
“I am pertaining to this doct
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LUKE MATTHEW I RAN OUT of the street to the busy road and hailed a cab. It was just a few minutes past eight when I arrived at the mall and I still have enough time before nine strikes. I headed for the arcades, like what Mrs. Ticcus informed us. There were two here and I found Levy on the hoops of the first. I approached him as discreetly as possible. “You’re here for the masquerade invitation.” My eyes widened when Levy spoke. He faced me with a devilish smirk on his lips. “You won’t take it from me while I’m alive.” “Levy, let’s not make a scene here. Just hand over the invitation and we’ll end this criminal business you’re in. We’ll set you free!” I tried to talk to him but my words may have just fallen on deaf ears. “Set me free? from what? Did it not occur to you that maybe I joined because I wanted to? This is not as simple as you think, Luke. You and Hibara will find yourselves tangled in
CAKE's Evidence - 3.5 - Black and White Mystery (The Masquerade Ball)
LUKE MATTHEW THE DETECTIVE WOKE up the next afternoon. I had sent an excuse e-mail to our class adviser and Math teacher, Mrs. Bonifacio, with an attached self-camera photo of me and a sleeping Hibara on a white hospital bed this morning. “Could you tell me exactly what happened?” She asked, holding her head while sitting up. I gave her assistance to which I received not even a simple ‘thanks’. What do I expect anyway? I chuckled lightly as I sat back on the monobloc chair, “I’m gonna tell you one thing: you told Irish, ‘I don’t believe in heroes; they don’t exist,’ and then you went running to save a lady from an about-to-explode street. Do you see the irony?” She turned her head to the opposite side and spoke in a husky voice, “That was unintended. It was impulse; I failed to plan ahead. I should have thought of the probability that there might be people arriving, like from work or wherever.”
CAKE's Evidence - 4.1 - The Doctor (Part One)
HIBARA I RODE A taxi to my former abode, the Cake residence: a place which I found unworthy of being called “my home” since my return to the Philippines. But tonight, I am facing the same old doors with the purpose of opening my eyes to the truth regarding my dear brother, Joro. I entered and the wooden walls and furniture around the living area still looked the same. I removed my belt and the straps around my legs and dropped them at the side. “Hibara, oh my God, it’s been a while!” Mom greeted me as soon as she found me by the entrance. “Oh, hey, Mom, we have to talk,” I said in a serious tone. My mother swung her arm around my neck. “You sound so serious, my child. Let’s have that talk tomorrow, alright? For now, let’s have a nice dinner together. I missed the days when the three of us sit at one table.” “Dad still skips the everyday family dinner, of course. What do I expect from him?” I uttered bitterly. “Don’t be so harsh on your father, child. He’s just busy—” I stepped
CAKE's Evidence - 4.2 - The Doctor (Part Two)
HIBARA “M-MAMA…” JORO WHISPERED, staring at the television. Mom stared at me with an expression that asks if I really did murder the school doctor. I abruptly stood up and the chair fell on the floor. I shook my head, “No, Mom… J-Joro, I did not do this!” Joro faced me with his watery eyes full of hatred. “You killed my mother… You killed her!” He lunged at me and punched my body repeatedly. A tear fell from my eye— not because of his incredibly strong punches, but because he believed what was untrue. And I know it’s my fault because I fed him lies after lies when we were younger. He will believe others, but never me. “Joro, stop that!” Mom pulled him away from me. I was already lying on the floor with bruises. “You killed her! You killed… you… you did…” Joro then hugged my mother and cried. I just stared at them, not knowing what to say, again. I must prove my innocence to Joro and to everyone. That was the only thought that came into my mind. The only thing that is best to do.
CAKE's Evidence - 5.1 - An Explosive Conflict (Part One)
HIBARA IT HAD BEEN a week after Dr. Celina’s murder, my belladonna incident, and—not to mention—almost passing. I could still recall unmistakably the hallucinations brought by the poison to me as one of its effects, and my Mom’s narration of what happened while I was standing on the edge of death. I OPENED MY eyes and the blinding light on the ceiling greeted me. I raised my hand over my face as I tried to look around the hospital room. I could hear the stable beeping of my vitals monitor from the side. Mom approached me with such bliss in her brown orbs, “Oh, thank goodness, you’re awake!” And then she hugged me. It felt awkward, but I returned the hug and tapped her back. “I feel okay, Mom.” The door opened which made us look at the forty-five-year-old man who appeared. His hair was swept back, his face with newly grown stubbles from the sideburns to the chin, and his emerald eyes gazed directly into mine. Mom stepped out of the room and as the old man walked nearer to my bed.
CAKE's Evidence - 5.2 - An Explosive Conflict (Part Two)
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CAKE's Evidence - 6.1 - The Mystery of the Five Orange Phones (Introduction)
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CAKE's Evidence - 6.2 - The Mystery of the Five Orange Phones (Amy & Shiloah I)
LUKE MATTHEW THE GALLERY SHOWED two images: a nicely lit, brown painted room with a blindfolded child tied up on a chair, and a half-eaten vanilla cake is laid on the coffee table in front of him— which somehow sent chills through my body. I don’t understand why, but I had a bad feeling when I looked at the cake. “I know where this is,” the Detective spoke. Clearly, she’s back to her normal self. “This is in Baskerville. The brown walls gave it away.” “But your flat has cream walls?” I replied. “I had it repainted, of course. It’ll be too gloomy if my unit is in a dark color and I have this kind of personality, duh,” she said and rolled her eyes. I chuckled, “Well, not to mention those snake pets you have! But anyway, I think we should be going now?” She nodded, “Yep, we should. Let’s get our bags and have an early dismissal. Before we leave, we’ll pass by Mr. Moon’s office so I can dissem
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