Professor Stone lost track of time completely. And all it took was a blink of a sleepy eye.

  The last thing he recalled was the noon light glaring into his eyes through the window. Now, it was well after dusk and any sunlight has called in for the day. Even the familiar faces in I.C.U. have been traded by brand new people, starting their night shift.

  The forensic chemist never felt this lost before. Granted, he always had a great sense of time, always punctual even. Now, he can't tell if he passed out for an hour or a full year. It was confirming the date on his watch that grounded him back in reality.

  "...Kim, you're not tired? Like, at all?"

  "I'm fine, Teacher."

  Meanwhile, Martial Kim couldn't bring himself to sleep. How could he, especially when his good friend was unconscious next to him. Granted some people under these circumstances could find some good excuse to close their eyes and take a quick nap in their chair.

  The young master could not do such a thing, even if his body yearned for proper rest.

  So he busied himself during the waning hours.

  "Kim. How long have you been staring out the window? What? Looking for a shooting star to wish upon?"

  "I have been trying to read Miss Keekee's fortune in the stars...However, it's proven difficult given the stars here are so faint. Very difficult to see."

  "Huh?...Oh. Light pollution."

  "...Light...garbage?"

  Prof. Stone tried not to laugh, "Nah, not like that. As you know, our city has a lot of lights - from the streets, houses, apartments, almost everything. Even at night, we're shining harder than a firefly. Because of that, the excessive illumination kinda makes it hard for anyone to properly see the stars. It's not like the medieval times where you can look up and lo and behold, all the of the blinking night sky is laid out like some painting in a museum."

  Martial Kim tried not to show a frown, because his enemy was more technology than human, "That would explain why even squinting would do me no good."

  "Want a telescope?"

  "A what?"

  "...Never mind. I doubt I could sneak one into I.C.U. They’ll probably panic and call for a Code Silver, thinking it was a rifle in a guitar bag or something."

  It's been a while since Prof. Stone had a proper gaze of the stars above his head. Sure he would see them every night, but like he said - light pollution. At most he got good glimpse of them whenever he travelled in the mountains, but even then he wasn't much of a star gazer to begin with.

  In saying that, he admired the young master trying to find even a slither of hope in the night sky.

  "By the way, Kim, the next star shower would be next year in May."

  "Wh--Teacher. I am aware you are well versed in the arts of Forensic Science, but I never took you for an astrologist."

  "...No just...Google."

  Martial Kim had trouble keeping up with the times, even when he's been here for a good several months. Was he entirely clueless? Well with his intelligence he can pick up the gist of it. But in the end, he was really no different than a senior who was behind on the times.

  Struggle with a button there, fumble with a switch there, and bumble with even a simple phone alarm.

  A part of him wanted - nay, wished - he could master this world's science and technology and find an answer to awaken Keekee from her state of condition. Surely with his experience in medical arts (albeit a little out dated to modern standards) he would be able to find a rare possibility faster than these so called 'doctors' and 'hospitalist'.

  On that note, why do these doctors keep changing? The young master questioned.

  Shouldn't there be one doctor to handle their patients from beginning to end? That's been Martial Kim's principle - hell, every physician back in the Jade Empire follow this rule. Even the Emperor and his family would rely on the one Imperial Physician, a life long position (until you mess up and get executed).

  So all this rotation, new faces every hour and every day, felt counter intuitive...Well, that was what Martial Kim thought.

  Alas, no one in modern times would listen to him.

  "Kim. You're not a dog. You don't have to get your hackles up whenever a male nurse or doctor touch Keekee. They're professionals."

  "They fail to convince me with such confidence, Teacher."

  "Sigh. Any who, I'm starving. I'm going to get us some food from the cafeteria...if it's still open. Meanwhile - don't bite them."

  "Like you said, Teacher, I am not a hound."

  "You fail to convince me with such confidence, Kim."

  The moment Prof. Stone saw the words CLOSED hanging on the cafeteria, he cursed his luck.

  He wasn't the type to cuss like a sailor, he preferred to act more professional than a regular street thug or college student. However, anyone would mutter under their breath when they're walking on lack of sleep, starving, and wasted their time taking the slow elevator ride.

  Don't blame him.

  In saying that, he didn't expect to curse a second time in a row in the matter of a few minutes. Just when he got into his car to find the nearest take out place.

  "What was that Yvonne?...Holy sh--Okay, I'll be right there. Give me 30...wait. 45 minutes. Need to do something real quick."

  A predicament for sure. Should he run through a red light to the nearest take out place and grab a proper bite to eat; or should he give up and just run through a red light to where trouble was calling him.

  Thank goodness, he asked for an extra 15 minutes.

  "Kim, I’m back. Sorry, this is all I could get."

  "...Teacher, I know a proper dinner when I see one. Clearly they do not resemble pork buns or roasted duck legs. So what are these?"

  "Chocolate bars and potato chips...Come on, don't give me that shrewd look! That's all the vending machines had to offer! They’re worth over 5 dollars each if you can believe it! And I got to go."

  "Go? Go where? Miss Keekee hasn't waken up yet!"

  "There's been a mime in town," Prof. Stone muttered in between chews of his chocolate bar. Thanks to the caramel filling, he had to put in extra effort to enunciate his sticky words. "Sorry, crime. Forensics is needed and I'm called to the meme—scene."

  "Ah, I see." Martial Kim nodded and he made sure Keekee was well tucked into her bed before he made for the door, "Let us be off then Teacher."

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa." Prof. Stone nearly choked on his food as he multi-tasked in eating and dragging his protege back into the room. "You're on a day off, remember?"

  "B-but, Teacher. Duty calls, no?"

  "Look. Kim. I admire your sense of responsibility, but... your place is here, with Keekee. Coma or not, I think you're the only person she wants to be by her side right now."

  "........Will you be alright, Teacher?"

  "Positive. I'll head to the frontlines, you hold the fort. Alright?"

  Martial Kim wished to disagree, or even disobey. But given the fact the stakes involved Keekee, his answer was obvious albeit a bit reluctant. So it took him ever ounce of willpower to just stand his ground as Prof. Stone marched off to the battlefield.

  It was at this moment, did the young master realized this may be the first time his mentor ever left him. Be it on case, off case, it was almost like Prof. Stone had been within him every second of his life in this strange new world.

  Was that feeling like a father making sure his son doesn’t trip too hard, or a brother-in-arms who always had his comrade’s back?

  It was right now did Martial Kim felt a strange sort of lightness, like he was floating aimlessly in the ocean. Neither tethered nor anchored. Even if it was warm inside of Keekee’s room, Martial Kim could not shrug off the shiver crawling up his spine.

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  --- I am doing the right thing, staying here and watching Miss Keekee. I know that. Yet, why does my heart ache in being left behind?...I wonder, did my martial brothers and sisters at Moon Tavern had this same uneasy sensation, whenever I charge off into the front lines and they hold the fort? Such a vexing feeling.

  The questions and emotions were too heavy for the young master to stand on. So the first time since he visited Keekee in I.C.U. he sat down. His knees started to shake, realizing how tired they've been. He could feel his calves twitching from all the energy he's exhausted in his muscles.

  Eyes blinked heavy, but he refused to sleep. He wanted to stand on guard for his friend.

  So what better way to keep himself alive, than to distract himself.

  "...If only you were awake, Miss Keekee. Then perhaps, you can explain to me why this Treasure Island is so appealing to the masses..........appealing to you..........Oh Miss Keekee..."

  Sometimes people think talking to a coma patient was silly. But on the other hand, better than talking to a dead body, right?

  Prof. Stone arrived at the scene, albeit a little later than promised. Fortunately, there were just so many things going on at the scene of the crime that no one noticed whether he was super late or super early.

  Although he got a gist of what happened on the phone and was pretty much prepared to see something dastardly terrible – what he finally laid eyes on left him completely speechless.

  "Jesus Christ. Officer Roland, what happened to this place!?"

  "I know right? It's like whoever owned the place owed money to a hurricane. It's a complete mess from top to bottom."

  The scene of the crime was held inside of a manor; think Beverly Hills style residence and replace those fancy palm trees for regular pine trees. The front doors were wide open to show complete devastation within entrance, halls, the large rooms, even up and down the stairs.

  Books and magazines were all tossed across tables, chairs, and floors; vases and potted plants smashed in like a hammer to a skull; furniture tossed and split into kindling; just so many problems that would require at least three paragraphs to go through!

  Prof. Stone can't tell if he was too tired to brace it all, or this was just too unreal, so ended up covering a gloved hand over his gaping mouth.

  Meanwhile, Officer Roland just stared at the anarchy, equally dumbstruck.

  "As you can see sir, there's footprints all over the place. Up and down the stairs, the foyer - everywhere. Forensics is collecting them, but I take it there's at least five or six guys that's been running around. Maybe more by the looks of it."

  “This feels morel like a rampage than a break in. Anything stolen?”

  “Oof. God knows. Too much of a mess to figure out what valuables were taken or left behind in the scuffle. I guess it’s going to take maybe a week to figure out what the hell happened here exactly!”

  "And the body, officer?"

  “Oooooh...You might want to leave that part for last, sir.”

  “Fraulein told me the gist. But is it THAT bad?”

  “Are you kidding me? Even the coroner had to step outside a couple of times to get fresh air. See! There they go again!”

  Detective Fraulein was a veteran in the police force. She’s survived her version of storming Omaha Beach in the Normandy landings and endured her version of the Iwo Jima campaigns. But never in her life had she come across a living, breathing, horror scene. A sight so unnatural, she was forced to swallow her own bile, or risk exploding into her face mask (and it’s those tight N95 respirators!).

  So it was perfectly understandable for her to jump when something touched her shoulder.

  “FFFF—STONE! KNOCK NEXT TIME! KNOCK!”

  “What do you call tapping the shoulder!?”

  Although the detective and forensic chemist often had their differences, they more or less saw eye to eye due to the........dear god almighty!

  “D-Detective. Are you SURE that’s even a corpse at this point?”

  “I don’t even know any more, Stone. Stop making me look at it.”

  Simply put, the corpse in question was nothing but a bloody carnage. Any further details and this would raise flags for all sorts of content warning restrictions. So...imagine as you will.

  Even Detective Fraulein had to hold up a hand to block the visage, just so she could speak straight, “It’s like a wolf had a rabbit for dinner but gave up halfway and left it alone. As you can tell by the flies, definitely more than a good while.”

  Prof. Stone adjusted his own face mask, but the smell still got to him, “Did an actual animal sneak in through the door or was this committed by a living breathing human?”

  “Hell, if someone said a werewolf did this – I would believe them, hands down. Never seen a messy death like this.”

  “Was the coroner able to get anything? How was the victim killed?”

  “Stone, just look at this pile of torn flesh. No one can tell if this guy was clubbed, stabbed, shot, or even ran over and dumped his body out the back of a van! And there the coroner goes again to get air! At this rate, we can only get details after they do a full autopsy. There’s simply too many wounds to figure out cause of death.”

  Detective Fraulein gave one obligatory glance at the corpse before wincing away, “Well Kung Fu Boy? Don’t you always have a smart brained opinion or deduction?...Kung Fu Boy?......Stone, where the hell is Kim?”

  Prof. Stone shrugged at first, but then, “What are you talking about he’s right—Oh right. Kim’s at the hospital. Keekee got into an accident.”

  “Oh shit! No way! Is she alright? God, please don’t tell me the poor girl is dead!”

  “No no, thank goodness, not at all...But not great either. She’s in a coma. I gave Kim the day off, so he could keep her company.”

  Detective Fraulein completely forgot about the corpse in front of her – rather she prefer to take her mind off it. Hearing the news, she just clicked her tongue under the mask, “Damn. I can’t imagine what the boyfriend is feeling right now.”

  Prof. Stone steeled himself and took it upon himself to examine the body – at a distance, “Honestly, I am glad Keekee has a boyfriend like Kim. The man packed her entire house in a laundry hamper if you can imagine, just to make her comfortable. Kept watch over her, like he was an Imperial Guard at the Buckingham Palace. A part of me is worried, Kim would crack.”

  “...Y-you should have more faith in Kung—I mean Kim. He’s decked over 20 cops, broke my nose, and got out of prison with his bare hands... As if anything like this will... After my shift, take me to see them. Hey, don’t give me that look! I may hate Kim, but I have nothing against Keekee. Poor girl, to think I was just talking to her a couple of days ago!...Man.”

  “As much as I want to accept your invitation, I am contemplating of declining it. Don’t give me that look, Fraulein. I barely had an hour’s worth of sleep. I am running on coffee and energy drinks. I was planning to sneak in a few zzzs...Anyways, she’s in the local hospital I.C.U., and they would have ended visiting hours by the time we finish with work. Tomorrow, I’ll take you there.”

  “Bright early!”

  “OH COME ON, NOT YOU TOO!”

  Work, work, work. It was the only thing keeping Prof. Stone awake. Coffee and caffeine can only do so much, he needed the motivation to will himself to keep pushing through his limits.

  And that was investigating a crime. Specifically, a murder.

  What happened here? How many people were involved? How did it went from a regular break in to something only a mauling bear could do? Was this planned and looked like an accident? Or was it accident and looked plan?

  Without any information on the cause or time of death, the range of questions was near limitless. Of course, not like knowing the exact hour and method of death would help either – there’s too many mess and variables that could skew the direction of the investigation.

  Why, Prof. Stone and his crew had to literally tip toe around the debris as if it was a wired minefield. One wrong step and they may loose valuable forensic evidence or even disturb the space before police photographers could take pictures and scan the environment to a digital landscape for further examination.

  “...Officer Roland was right...there’s a lot of foot prints everywhere.”

  North, west, east, south, these foot prints in questions seem to go in multiple directions. Given the forensic chemist’s experience, a single glance at the direction and pattern of foot prints would give him a general idea of intent of these movements. Seeing how they’ve overlapped each other like back to back rush hours in a subway station, he couldn’t even fathom an educated guess.

  Were these people looking for something? Were they trying to move valuables out? Were they trying to dig out money hidden in shoes or even drawers? Even with all the time in the world, there were too many question marks for forensic science to figure out.

  “Oh, oh?...Yvonne, can you pass me your flashlight. I think I found something!”

  Ah-ha! A clue? What could it be? Someone hiding underneath a couch? A murder weapon swept under a table?

  Whatever caught Prof. Stone’s attention to wave a light around, happened to be underneath a drawer. The piece of furniture was one of the few left intact and just so happen to be standing in the foyer, about 10 paces from the door.

  Prof. Stone had to approach it carefully, not because he thought there was a bomb inside – but because of all the sharp porcelain pieces scattered in front of him. Possibly a large decorative vase got smashed in some scuffle, the scratch marks on the wall paint seem to suggest, and littered the floor like spiked traps.

  Fortunately, he and his forensic unit used various tools and extendable grabbers to bypass the traps and try to grapple onto something hiding under the drawer’s bottom space. A full pull and tugs, and they brought it under the light.

  “Oh. A bag? Actually, a hip pouch... Definitely seen better days, the buckle is completely snapped off. Would fall right off at this point... Hold on...why does this bag look so familiar? Where have I seen this before?”