Vikram had begun his search earlier that evening, particularly after spotting a suspicious figure moving swiftly through the crowd of guests before vanishing. Trusting his instincts, he stepped out and made his way toward the back garden. The area was dark and silent, illuminated only by faint oil lamps hanging in several corners. The night breeze whispered softly, causing the leaves around the garden to rustle gently.At the far end of the yard, Vikram noticed a figure standing with his back turned, draped in a long black cloak that stood out starkly amidst such a festive occasion. His movements were uneasy, as though he was waiting for orders or ensuring something. When the figure turned around, Vikram froze in surprise—the face was one he recognized. “Roy!?” Vikram’s voice cut through the silence. The figure flinched, instinctively stepping back as his hand reached for something hidden beneath his cloak. Under the dim light, his face was now unmistakable—Roy, Vikram’s comrade f

Here is the English translation of your text:“Feel this…”A faint voice broke the silence, echoing through the corners of Arkanza’s consciousness. His head felt heavy, his body sinking into the soft mattress that enveloped him. Yet the voice continued to disturb him, forcing his eyes to slowly open. The dim light from a small oil lamp in the corner of the room greeted his vision.“Where am I…” Arkanza mumbled weakly.His breathing felt heavy, as though an invisible weight pressed on his chest. Slowly, he tried to move his hand to wipe his face, but a sharp pain shot through his entire body. Arkanza groaned softly, then forced himself to sit up. The room looked unfamiliar despite its luxury—thick burgundy curtains adorned the windows, and polished mahogany furniture reflected faint, shadowy images. Only then did he realize this was his own room in the Smith residence.But his attention quickly shifted to something on the floor near his bed. A piece of clothing—his shirt—lay there, cru

That night, the atmosphere at the Smith residence was unusually quiet, though not in Norman’s room. The space that was usually serene was now filled with strange sounds—the soft echo of footsteps and whispers barely audible. Arkanza, his step-sibling, was sitting at the edge of Norman’s bed, glancing around with hesitation. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and sleep pants, her hair slightly messy after a day full of exhausting events. Her house was under repair after the attack a few days ago. As part of the recovery process, she was temporarily moved into Norman’s room, which was quieter and more isolated from the bustle of the main house.Norman sat at his desk, staring at his phone screen without focus. He already knew what had happened; he had heard all the speculation about the Smith family that was circulating in the city. But that day, his heart felt heavier than usual. Arkanza was in his room—the place where he had always found solace. Now, it had to be shared with someone he n

Arkanza took a deep breath as he stared at the stack of old cardboard boxes in the corner of the room. Some of the boxes were worn out, covered in dust, and had been left untouched for years. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, walked closer, and carefully began opening the boxes one by one. Old belongings began to scatter—worn-out books, nearly crumpled documents, and a few forgotten trinkets.It was Sunday, and he needed to retrieve some tools and ornaments from his room that had been stored in the warehouse following its renovation.Amidst his busy hands, a small silver box caught his attention. It was hidden beneath a pile of old fabric, as though it had been deliberately forgotten for years. Arkanza picked up the box, blew off its dusty surface, and noticed beautiful engravings—strange symbols that adorned every side of it."Whose is this?" he muttered softly.His hands brushed over the box's surface, feeling the engravings that seemed to tell a silent story. Slowly, Ark

Mistaken Identity on the Seashore The afternoon sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. The sun shone brightly, casting its golden rays over the sparkling ocean waves. The rhythmic sound of crashing waves echoed across the shoreline, blending with the cries of seagulls circling in the vast blue sky. It was a perfect day at the beach—a picturesque scene for the Smith family's vacation. Yet amidst all this beauty, Norman Smith's mood remained sour. Frustration lingered from the morning, fueled by his annoyance at Arkanza, his aloof stepbrother. Arkanza’s cold demeanor and distant nature irritated Norman to no end. Today, Norman had decided he’d had enough. While Arkanza was in the upstairs bathroom, Norman seized the opportunity. Sneaking into Arkanza’s room, Norman’s eyes landed on a dark jacket hanging lazily over a chair by the window. There was something odd about the jacket—it bore a faint, mysterious emblem on the inside lining—but Norman paid it no mind. “Perfect,” Norman mu