Chapter 51

The “Beta Tester” case, initially dismissed as a trivial gaming incident or a mere concern, was actually the name given to a series of gruesome serial murders that plunged London’s Beta population into a state of profound terror. The perpetrator had earned this title for two primary reasons: he exclusively targeted individuals with the Beta trait and subjected them to grotesque and inhumane experiments aimed at forcibly transforming Betas into Omegas.

The Beta Tester’s modus operandi followed a distinct pattern. His victims were invariably subjected to rape and severe mutilation, although the official cause of death in each case was manual strangulation. However, the second pattern, the mutilation, posed a significant challenge to the investigation.

The killer meticulously destroyed the victims’ fingerprints, teeth, and faces, leaving no trace of their identity. This forced the police to endure a grueling identification process. Genetic testing emerged as the sole remaining option, but the investigators faced a daunting task. They had to cross-reference the DNA against a vast list of missing Betas rather than simply querying a database. This process proved to be agonizingly slow.

The discovery of the fifth victim, just last week, led to a breakthrough in the investigation.

The coroner confirmed that this victim, like the previous four, had undergone a forced modification of their pheromone organs. In Betas, the pheromone organs located within the vomeronasal system exist only as vestigial remnants and are functionally inert, unlike in Alphas or Omegas. However, analysis revealed that the killer had surgically altered these organs while simultaneously flooding the victims’ systems with trait-altering hormonal agents.

With the death toll climbing to five, the media launched a barrage of criticism against the Metropolitan Police for their apparent lack of competence. Despite a month having passed since the first body was discovered in early October, the authorities remained without a single solid lead. Reporters hovered relentlessly, desperate to uncover even the slightest detail of the investigation. In response to this public outcry, the Commissioner’s frustration reached a breaking point. It was in this volatile atmosphere that the first witness finally emerged.

Matthew’s car pulled into Whitechapel, slipping past the line of patrol cars guarding the hospital entrance and into the underground parking garage.

The basement was suffocatingly hot, heavy with the damp, stagnant air from outside and the musty scent of old dust. When Matthew remarked that the space felt skin-crawlingly eerie, Alex silently nodded in agreement.

“I’m actually relieved that we’re meeting someone involved in a case somewhere other than the morgue,” Matthew remarked dryly as they headed toward the third floor. Alex knew the remark was directed at Ilay, the medical examiner. The two were fundamentally incompatible and bickered constantly, or rather, Matthew was prone to outbursts of unilateral irritation.

“Is this about Ilay again?” Alex asked.

“Don’t even start with that psycho,” Matthew snapped. He treated Ilay like a serial killer simply because the man could enjoy a hearty meal in a room reeking of charred human skin. Ilay, seemingly relishing the reaction, made a point of calling Matthew whenever he needed assistance. Their ongoing feud had become a constant source of amusement for the rest of the Violent Crimes Unit.

The elevator came to a halt before their banter could continue.

As the doors opened to a hallway steeped in silence, both men immediately went quiet. Alex slipped his hand into his coat pocket, fingering his notebook, and stepped out first.

The witness was in a private room.

After showing their IDs to the guarding officer, they were directed to Room 5 and headed straight around the corner. The news of the witness’s appearance had clearly made waves; outside the hospital, the air was already thick with the noise of gathering journalists. On days like this, the rookies tasked with holding back the press had the hardest job of all.

Sergeant Hayden stood outside the closed door. A man in his mid-forties with the first hints of gray appearing in his hair, he acknowledged them with a brief nod.

“Where’s the witness?” Alex asked.

“In the room.” Hayden pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and searched for a lighter. “The woman is still unconscious, so you’ll need to take the man’s statement first.”

Alex frowned. “There are two witnesses?”

“Something like that.” Hayden tapped Alex on the shoulder. “To be precise, the man saved the woman just as she was being kidnapped. There was a struggle, and he sustained some abrasions. The kid has quick instincts. He didn’t waste time; he prioritized getting her to safety and escaping.”

“I see. So neither of them saw the attacker’s face,” Matthew noted with a hint of disappointment before adding a follow-up question. “And what’s the relationship between the two witnesses?”

“Well…” Hayden shrugged. “That’s for you two to dig up. I have to go handle the press, so get as much as you can. Given the circumstances, I’ll be requesting a protection detail. We’ll consider the matter of safe houses or relocation after you get the statements.”

Alex nodded, remembering the basics. “Understood. Has the CCTV footage been secured?”

“They’re extracting it now.” Hayden, already looking half-mad with the need for a cigarette, stuck one in his mouth and stepped away. The click of his lighter echoed down the hall as he vanished.

Alex signaled to Matthew, who gripped the handle of the hospital door. Even Alex felt a flutter of nerves. They finally had a witness, and it was that familiar sensation that arose whenever a major breakthrough seemed imminent. He had once believed he wasn’t cut out for police work, but six years in the force had clearly left their mark.

The handle turned silently, and the heavy metal door swung open. They stepped into a room bathed in sterile white light, filled with the faint, clinical scent of medicine and disinfectant.

Matthew entered first, offering a professional greeting. “Hello. I’m Investigator Matthew Wayne.”

Alex followed close behind. The first thing he noticed was a shock of brilliant blonde hair, the strands slightly damp and clinging to the man’s forehead. The man sitting in the chair by the bed wore a white doctor’s coat; based on the way his long legs were folded neatly, he appeared quite tall.

The man, who had been watching the sleeping woman, turned his head at Matthew’s voice.

Alex froze in his tracks. A pair of vivid green eyes slowly locked onto his.

Time seemed to screech to a halt. He saw long, curled lashes, a sharp, straight bridge of nose, and lips set in a soft, relaxed line. His eyebrows, a shade darker than his fine blonde hair, were perfectly groomed. It was not a common face; he looked like a model or an actor, possessing a surreal beauty that felt more like a figment of a dream than a living person.

But Alex couldn’t tear his eyes away for reasons that had nothing to do with the man’s looks.

“I’m Nathan White,” the man said.

The clear, familiar name pierced Alex’s ears, and his eyes flew wide. The strength left his hand, and his pen slipped from his fingers.

Clack.

In the absolute stillness of the hospital room, the small sound echoed loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. Both men turned to look at him. Alex couldn’t even register Matthew’s questioning gaze from the side. Like a prisoner bound by invisible chains, he stood there with his eyes fixed on the man in the chair, on Nathan, who was now looking up at him. Without even realizing he was speaking, Alex breathed his name.

“…Nathan?”

He had thought of this person for nine long years. Every single day since he had graduated, finished university, passed the police exams, and arrived at this very moment, he had thought of him. Before falling asleep, while eating alone at the table, in every idle second he allowed himself to drift, he had envisioned this reunion.

Logically, he knew Nathan wouldn’t want to see him, yet he had prayed for a single chance encounter. He wanted to apologize, somehow. He wanted to say he was sorry for hurting him.

If he could have traded his life to return to that moment, he would have done it, dying just to change the choice he had made. Now that he was a police officer and saw how people like David Mack exploited the weaknesses of others, he realized there might not have been a perfect way to handle it back then, but he had replayed the scene a thousand times, thinking of how he could have changed the way he spoke to Nathan. If he couldn’t tell the truth, he should have at least been kind; or perhaps he should have confessed everything and looked for a solution together.

He had lived his life ruminating on an unchangeable past. He told himself it was time to let go, but he couldn’t, because the only time his life had ever felt truly brilliant was during those two years.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, or was it that you eventually forget? Every piece of romantic advice he had sought out in his misery had proven useless. Alex had never imagined he would be unable to forget someone so completely, especially someone he hadn’t seen a single hair of in nearly a decade.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of searching for him. On the day he turned eighteen and his mother kicked him out after renting him a small flat, his heart had felt so hollow that he had found himself hovering over Tina and Jude’s numbers. He had scoured Facebook and Instagram; he had even toyed with the idea of using the police database after joining the force. Ultimately, however, he had done none of those things. He loathed himself for even considering such a creepy, selfish move.

But he could still imagine. He had spent years imagining the moment they would meet and the reaction Nathan would have.

“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, looking between Alex and Nathan with confusion. “Do you two know each other?”

Their gazes met again. Nathan, sitting in the chair, looked up at him with a chillingly cold stare. Not a single trace of emotion touched his face as he slowly parted his lips. Alex’s body went rigid with tension.

He had imagined this. For countless years, he had obsessed over what expression Nathan would wear and what words he would say.

“No,” Nathan replied.

But…

“I don’t know him.”