Chapter 2

Marcus and Danny cleared the scene at once, forcing everyone present to fall back five meters.

I've only used this chest once.

The last time was a vicious one too. I held out for seven days and seven nights and nearly worked myself to death.

Looking at this face that was seventy percent like my own, I had a feeling I couldn't put into words.

I lit the ritual incense, and the paper talisman I used to light it burned three times and went out three times.

The fourth time, thunder rolled, and a bolt of red lightning struck half an inch in front of me.

I didn't dodge, but the hand holding the incense was shaking.

The ritual incense snapped itself into three pieces. I buried it in the ground and put away the chest.

My mother rushed over, asking anxiously, "What happened? Why did you stop? Who is the murderer?!"

I looked up. The sky had been perfectly clear, and now it was choked with dark clouds, lightning and thunder.

"Today's no good. Let me go take a look at your house now."

She lowered her head in disappointment, tears falling in big drops. "It won't do any good to go. In our family, no one has ever offended anyone but you."

She wiped away her tears and walked home dejectedly.

Marcus and Danny followed behind me, and I handed them the chest.

The two of them watched me with concern, and I shook my head to reassure them.

Sigh. I didn't want to take on this mess either, but it was a little late to say that now.

I followed her back to this home from fourteen years ago. Nothing had changed.

I pushed open the door to Jonathan's room. It was pitch black, and the person behind me screamed on the spot.

Pointing at the room, she said, "Smell it! It's this eerie smell!"

I exchanged a glance with Marcus and Danny. They shook their heads.

I walked in and turned on the light, explaining, "It's just a musty smell. Open the window and air it out for a few days and it'll be gone."

On the wall was a large photo of me, except all the features had been slashed apart.

The force and the destructiveness of it—no matter how you looked at it, it seemed like utter loathing.

I lifted my chin. "He did that?"

Behind me, my mother's voice came low and heavy. "It has nothing to do with the murderer, does it."

I smiled, quickly understanding what she really meant. I looked at her and said with certainty, "You did it."

I didn't look at her expression again. I walked around the room, picked a few strands of hair off the bed, and headed back with Marcus and Danny.

"The coffin shop hasn't closed yet, has it?"

"Not yet."

I took out the money. "Go buy me the best coffin and haul it to the riverbank landing. Remember, the best one."

Once I'd given the order, I carried the old wooden chest down to the riverside.

The sky darkened, and everyone who'd come to gawk had gone home.

Every year a lot of people die in this river—some drown, some are killed.

Every year I catch more criminals than I can count, but this one, I have to admit, had me stumped.

I sat beside my brother's body and burned a lot of paper.

"Your brother will help you one more time. Don't hurt your brother. Work with me, all right?"

Behind me came Marcus's voice. "Big brother, the coffin's here!"