Content Notice: This chapter contains non-graphic depictions of murder aftermath, physical injury, and investigative discussion of violent acts.

Alice's father—Robert Hase. That's the name we go with now.

Not just the father, not just a grieving man—Robert Hase, the one who's doing the work. He's been going through the footage, all of it, isolating every person Lili has interacted with since the murders began. Even a day or two before. Seventeen days' worth of footage. All of it.

And he did it in less than a day.

But it wasn't quick. It wasn't easy. It was long. It was exhausting. And at the end of the day, Robert Hase was still human. He had to sleep.

So he fell asleep on one of the chairs near the analytical computers in the control room—just a bit higher than Erdmann's seat. Not the control panel, not his desk, just another seat nearby. Erdmann was there too, sleeping in his bed in the of the same room.

Then, around 12 PM of Day 287—barely five hours later—Hase was woken by the panic alarm. Another murder. Another body.

He was exhausted, yes, but not so much that he couldn't function. Erdmann wasn't in the room. So Hase figured he'd already gone ahead to the scene.

Hase got up and went there too.

And sure enough—Erdmann was already at the crime scene.

This time, the murder was typical. Routine, almost. Nothing too different from what came before.

The victim: a young man, bare-chested, stabbed clean through the throat. Carved was the word 'ruined'.

It wasn't just cannibalism. If it was cannibalism, they'd take more. The whole body, maybe. But this? This was selective. It was a souvenir. A trophy

Evidence—not of what the killer needed. But of what they did.

"Do your magic." Erdmann told him flatly, already halfway out the door.

And just like that, Hase was left alone with the scene. In full control.

He started methodically, working every angle of the room. Every crack in the deteriorating wall—damage from the earlier explosion—every fleck of blood. He examined the spatter, the spray angles. Pulled a portable DNA kit, pulled out of his inventory.

Results came back fast. Everything belonged to the victim. No defensive wounds, no foreign DNA under the fingernails. Went without fight.

The kid never saw it coming.

And then—one more detail.

The victim had only one leg. One amputation, long healed. That was new.

They'd run out of double amputees.

The killer was getting closer. This was a milestone.

Robert Hase knelt beside the body and studied the skull. The head told its own story. At first glance, it looked like simple trauma—blunt force, maybe a fall. But as he ran his fingers over the skin, he found subtle indentations. Pressure points. Tiny crescents, spaced like the tips of fingers digging in.

It wasn't a blow. It was a grip.

He pressed gently. The bone underneath gave just slightly—a spiderweb crack beneath the surface. That kind of pressure shouldn't be possible. Not by a human hand.

It was an upgrade.

Whoever did this had a prosthetic. A reinforced hand. That narrows it down.

Then he spotted the ash. A faint dusting near the victim, almost lost to blood. Hase bent closer, got a piece on the tip of his finger and sniffed.

Smoke.

Not just any smoke—this wasn't the thin, stale scent everyone here reeked of. It was deeper, stronger. Rich. Almost…pure cuban.

The killer had a distinct uncommon taste.

He stood up and called for Erdmann, who entered a few seconds later, tucking something into his coat.

"He's upgraded." Hase said, pointing at the pressure points. "Hand. Crushed the skull right here—these marks match finger placement."

Erdmann smiled. "That narrows it down. Not many upgrades around. Hospital keeps records."

"Exactly."

Then Hase gestured toward the ash. "Smoker. But not like the others. This is strong. An acquired taste."

Erdmann shrugged. "Almost everyone smokes around here. Could be the victim."

"It isn't." Hase said flatly. "This scent isn't common."

He leaned in again to catch the scent, but this time, something else hit first. Sharp. Manufactured.

Cologne.

He looked up at Erdmann.

"Not wise to wear scent in an active scene." he said. "You drown out the evidence. No wonder you haven't gotten far on your own."

Erdmann smiled. "That's why we need detectives, right?"