CHAPTER - 5: UNKNOWN

Rehan walked through the aftermath alone.

No urgency. No adrenaline. Just silence.

He didn’t look back.

“Tick… toc… tick… toc…

Now you are stop.”

He kept walking.

CHAPTER - 5: UNKNOWN

4:00 A.M.

The School Rooftop

Zaya froze.

“What—what is this?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “How did these bodies end up here?”

Daan glanced at her, confused.

“What do you mean?”

She pointed toward the rooftop.

“There… there are bodies. Right here.”

Daan stepped closer, stomach tightening.

So many. Scattered. Silent. Precise.

“…That’s a lot of them,” he muttered. “How did this even happen? And who could’ve done this?”

Zaya crouched slightly, eyes scanning the scene—not in panic, but in analysis.

“Whoever did this,” she said slowly, voice steady, “was a pro. Look at the way… everything’s arranged. This isn’t random.”

Daan swallowed.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But this level of brutality… who kills like this?”

The early morning wind rattled the loose panels along the rooftop. Silence pressed down, heavy and expectant.

Zaya straightened, urgency creeping in.

“We need to call someone. Sir… or ma’am. Now.”

Daan nodded and reached for his phone.

“Wait,” he said, voice low. “I’ll make the call.”

He tapped the screen, fingers moving fast. The dim glow illuminated their tense faces.

Above, the city still slept. Below, the quiet rooftop held the weight of what had just happened.

The phone rang.

Rehan didn’t move.

He shifted his position on the bed. The phone kept ringing.

Finally, he muttered under his breath,

“Who the hell is calling me this early?”

Still, he picked it up. The screen showed Daan’s name.

“Hello?” he said.

“Sir… bodies. On the school rooftop,” Daan’s voice was tense.

Rehan yawned, stretching lazily.

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Sir…”

He cut him off. “Shaziya’s there, right? Let her handle it. I’m trying to sleep.”

“But sir—”

“Yes, yes. Fine. I’ll come in a bit,” Rehan said, dismissively.

“But sir, this is urgent!”

“Relax,” he replied. “I said I’ll be there in a little while.”

Daan hesitated. “Okay… so what time should I expect you?”

“Eight. I’ll be there at eight.”

“Sir… eight?”

“Yes.”

“Ah… okay, sir.”

“And one more thing,” Rehan added.

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t call me this early again.”

“Okay… sir,” Daan muttered.

Rehan hung up and rolled over. Back to sleep. Calm. Unbothered.

7:50 a.m.

Rehan had woken up and was walking down the street. Yawning, he thought, “ah, now I have to go to school. And damn, I can’t just leave the bodies anywhere else, or it’ll be obvious it was me.”

He reached a café and pushed the door open.

“Welcome, sir,” the girl behind the counter said.

Rehan didn’t reply. He spotted the table on the right and slid into the chair.

“Tea and an omelet, please,” he said casually.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

He leaned back, calm, eyes scanning the quiet café. Everything in place. Everything is precise. Effortless.

A little while later, the girl from the counter came over with his order.

“As you said—tea and an omelet,” she said.

“Thank you,” Rehan said casually.

He ate, sipped his tea, calm, relaxed.

The door opened. A man walked in.

“Welcome, sir,” the girl greeted him.

He looked in a good mood and told her, “One coffee, please.”

His eyes landed on Rehan, sitting alone. Without hesitation, he walked over and sat at the same table across from him.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” Rehan replied, glancing up.

“You’re sitting here alone,” the man noted.

Rehan tilted his head, looking sideways.

“Nah… nah. I’m sitting with a couple of people.”

The man laughed. “Well, nice to meet you. My name’s Jefferson. And yours?”

“I’m Rehan Haq,” he said.

“Do you come here daily?”

“Nah, first time,” Rehan replied.

“Oh. Well… can I ask you a question?” Jefferson leaned in slightly.

The coffee arrived. Jefferson thanked the girl.

“Ask,” Rehan said, taking a slow sip.

“Where are you from? I mean… you don’t look Canadian,” Jefferson teased.

“Because I’m not,” Rehan said flatly.

Jefferson smirked. “Then… for which mission did you come here?”

“To solve the vanishing case,” Rehan said casually.

“What?”

“Just kidding,” Rehan added.

“Oh… I was shocked there for a moment. Who are you, solving crimes?” Jefferson laughed.

“Huh,” Rehan murmured.

“By the way… you know there’s a school function tonight. The same school is tied to that vanishing case.”

“Function?” Rehan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. But maybe not this time… because of the incident,” Jefferson said.

“How do you know?”

“Every year it happens. Actually, it’s the school festival—they celebrate the anniversary, I think it’s the 27th one this year,” Jefferson explained.

“Oh… so anyone can attend? Or just school people?”

“Nah, anyone can come watch,” Jefferson said.

“So the school does these things every year?”

“Yeah… actually, twice a year,” Jefferson

added.

“Twice?”

“Yeah. Once two months ago, and the next one now. Every year, to honor the school’s first principal,” Jefferson said.

“Umm… well, bye,” Rehan said, standing up.

“What? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“Then… bye,” Jefferson said.

Rehan tossed some cash on the counter, shook hands with the girl, and walked out. Jefferson called back, “Bye!”

“Bye,” Rehan said over his shoulder, keeping his calm, effortless pace.

8:10 a.m.

Shaziya frowned, glancing at the clock. “He was supposed to be here at eight. Still hasn’t arrived.”

Zaya knelt beside the body, studying it carefully. “Ma’am… if you look closely, the throat… it’s cut with a knife in such a way that it’s gone all the way in.”

Shaziya’s eyebrows shot up. “Who kills like this?”

Zaya shook her head. “Ma’am… There's a difference between these and the previous bodies we checked. Those were done by someone else… these, by another hand entirely.”

Rick hesitated for a moment. “Ma’am… if you don’t mind, can I ask something?”

“Go ahead,” Shaziya said.

“Sir… why does he do it like this? I mean… he knows it’s a serious case, yet he’s late and… he solves it so… casually.”

Shaziya leaned back, calm but sharp. “You think he’s careless? We don’t know the plans he’s already set in motion. Every time he takes a case, he’s already four steps ahead before anyone else even begins.”

Rehan reached the school.

“Thirteen minutes late,” Shaziya said, raising an eyebrow.

“Got held up. So… what’s the situation?” Rehan asked casually, scanning the room.

Zaya spoke up, tense. “Sir… the attacks on the previous bodies… completely different style. And these… sharp, precise attacks. Someone who knows what they’re doing. Bullets and injuries… right on lethal spots.”

Rehan nodded slowly. “Ah… whatever. Forget it for now. What about the first bodies?”

Shaziya shook her head. “We can’t ignore them. They’ll be investigated too.”

Rehan leaned back. “Let’s see one first, then the other.”

She hesitated, then said, “By the way, Rehan… did you figure out how he brought the bodies here directly?”

“How?”

“Placed them in a way that no blood would spill. And if it did… it could be cleaned easily.”

Rehan frowned. “Still… some blood must’ve stayed.”

Shaziya’s voice was sharp. “There’s a chemical in the blood. Make it run like water. Every single body has it.”

Zaya blinked. “What? Is there such a chemical?”

Shaziya nodded. “Only made in one place in Canada—Cape Spear. Whoever did the first bodies… probably used it again on these.”

Zaya looked at Rehan. “Sir… did you know?”

Rehan shrugged. “Yeah. But it wasn’t necessary to say.”

“But sir—”

Shaziya cut in, smirking slightly. “See, this is why people call you careless, Rehan.”

Rehan shook his head, calm. “Forget all that. Let me work.”

Shaziya raised an eyebrow. “Work?”

“Check the school festival from two months ago. Who attended. That’s the first step.”

“Two months ago?”

“Yeah. Just found myself. Every year, they hold a festival for the first principal. Anyone can attend. I need that guest list—ask the principal.”

Shaziya glanced at him. “Then… I’m coming too.”

“Yeah. Let’s go,” Rehan said, standing and moving toward the door.

2:00 P.M. – On the Street

Rehan walked down the empty street, the city’s chill pressing against his jacket. His hands were in his pockets, slow, measured steps.

His phone vibrated. He pulled it out and

glanced at the screen. Zeeshan.

He answered casually.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” came the familiar voice.

Rehan smirked. “Do I even exist in your memory, or am I just a ghost?”

Zeeshan chuckled. “You exist. That’s why I’m calling.”

Rehan leaned against a lamppost, shaking his head. “I thought people with a 99% crime-solving rate don’t even bother calling anyone.”

Zeeshan laughed, teasing. “Damn right. But some of us still care, you know.”

“Care, huh? Yeah, sure… so tell me, why call?” Rehan asked, tone casual, almost bored.

“Just felt like it,” Zeeshan replied. “Thought if I didn’t call, it would feel incomplete.”

Rehan raised an eyebrow. “You act like my wife just randomly picked up the phone.”

“Not your wife… maybe just a friend, you idiot.”

Rehan smirked again, sliding the phone slightly away from his ear. “Alright, leave that. Tell me… how come you’ve been stuck on the same case for so many days?”

“I wasn’t stuck,” Zeeshan said. “I was just… wandering. The case got solved ages ago. What about you?”

Rehan shrugged. “Mine’s still ongoing.”

“How long is that going to take, man?”

Rehan glanced at the grey sky. “What can I do? It’s cold, and my brain refuses to work when it’s freezing.”

Zeeshan snorted. “So many excuses, Rehan. Alright, I’ll let you go… bye.”

“Bye,” Rehan said, slipping the phone back into his pocket, and continued walking. Calm. Unbothered.

3:00 P.M

Everywhere, silence hung thick over Huntsville. The streets, usually bustling, were empty; even the wind seemed to whisper instead of howl. It was as if the entire city had decided to pause, holding its breath.

Rehan lay on his bed, eyes closed, his breathing steady. The quiet wasn’t emptiness—it carried a rare kind of peace, the calm that comes after chaos.

No alarms. No footsteps. No phones ringing. Just the subtle hum of a city at rest.

For a moment, nothing else existed. He didn’t move. He didn’t think. He just… rested.

9:00 P.M.

In the shadows of the night, the evil sat on his throne.

His face was hidden, swallowed by darkness. The firelight flickered across his clothes, illuminating everything… except him.

He spoke. Just one line.

“Tick… toc… Tick… toc… Tick… and… toc…”

The sound seemed to echo in the silence, slow, deliberate, and heavy. Time itself felt trapped in that rhythm.

Even the flames danced differently, as if they too were listening.

11:00 P.M.

Along the boundary, the metal railings stood cold and rigid, like silent sentinels. From them, two bodies hung, motionless, swaying faintly with the night breeze.

Ropes held them in place, taut and unyielding, creating a grim silhouette against the dim light of the streetlamps. Shadows stretched across their forms, hiding any features, leaving only the eerie outline of suspended figures.

The faint creak of rope against metal echoed softly in the still night, each sound deliberate, measured, like a heartbeat in slow motion.

The moonlight caught on the railings, glinting cold, throwing long, jagged reflections across the bodies. Nothing moved but the ropes. Nothing spoke but the night itself.

In that silence, the scene whispered of something calculated, something deliberate—and of someone watching, unseen.

11:59 PM

Rehan paused at the threshold, his fingers brushing the cold handle.

“I get it,” he muttered under his breath, voice low but firm.

The door creaked open. He stepped inside.

A vast staircase loomed before him, black as midnight, spiraling upward into shadows. The first floor above seemed swallowed by darkness itself, as if the house had absorbed the night. Moonlight sneaked through the door, stretching a thin silver line across the floor, but it died out before reaching the depths of the hall.

The interior was stark, almost surreal. Every wall, every surface, a contrast of black and white — a palace of extremes. Silence clung to the space like a living thing, thick and heavy. The kind of silence that made you question whether anyone else was even breathing.

Rehan’s boots hit the marble with a sharp click-clack that echoed, bouncing off the walls, amplifying the emptiness. He didn’t flinch. Hands in his pockets, he moved deliberately, each step a rhythm, a signal to the shadows that someone had arrived.

His eyes scanned, slow and calculating, noting the angles, the dark corners, the faintest shift of light. Every instinct screamed alert, every nerve tensed.

He reached the base of the staircase, black iron railings stretching like claws into the darkness above. The air smelled faintly of dust and old wood, of secrets long kept. Rehan tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Now,” he said, voice a whisper, yet carrying weight, “it’s my turn… to show you what real terror means.”

He stepped onto the stairs. One foot. Then the next. The shadows didn’t move; they waited. The silence didn’t break; it waited. And Rehan… walked into it like a storm waiting to be unleashed.

— — — — TO BE CONTINUED — — — —

PSYCHO REACHED THE PALACE

   OF THE TICK TOC…AND NOW, ITS TIME 

            TO END THE TICK TOC

CHAPTER-6 TERROR

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