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🗓️ 20 June 2027
🕓 Wednesday, 3:30 PM
📍 Jalan Raja Chulan, KL
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While Martin and I were on our way to Jegan’s house, my thoughts drifted to my father.
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Guilt clawed at my chest. Maybe he had been carrying too much stress about me all this while. Maybe that stress pushed him to this condition. The arguments we had echoed in my mind.
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He never believed in my powers.
He called them superstition.
False beliefs.
Nonsense.
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But I never listened. Because I know… these powers were given to me for a purpose.
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I was deep in thought when Martin's phone buzzed. He answered—it was from the police control room.
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Earlier at the hospital, while I had spoken privately with Kayal, Martin had secretly forwarded the portrait of the woman who committed suicide. Now, details were coming in.
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Her name was Ravana. A famous magician, known around the world for her mind-blowing performances. She even acted in a few Bollywood films. She had trained dozens of students and adopted a 10-year-old girl named Moli from an orphanage. She raised Moli as her own daughter.
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But what shocked both Martin and me… was her past.
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Ravana’s father was none other than The Slayer—a notorious serial killer from the 1980s in Kedah. He had killed 11 people before a brilliant detective finally caught him. He was sentenced to death.
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Ravana was just 15 when her father was arrested. She had told police he tried to abuse her too. After that, she was raised by her aunt, and later trained by a renowned magician. In interviews, she had made one thing clear:
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“I am nothing like my father.”
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She became an icon. An inspiration.
But now… she was gone.
An idol, with a childhood full of shadows.
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🗓️ 20 June 2027
🕓 Wednesday, 5:30 PM
📍 Jegan's House, Cheras
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We reached Jegan’s house. He greeted us with his usual geeky charm, hair messy, hands oily with wires and solder.
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But what stood out in the room wasn’t just Jegan’s energy—it was his latest invention.
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The Reflector.
A headband with a micro-screen embedded on the front, powered by quantum readings and vision signal capture.
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Jegan explained, “This thing detects the moment Yugan enters a vision—and it displays it on the screen. No detail missed. It’s like watching a live stream from another realm.”
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“Bro… this is insane,” Martin said.
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Jegan smirked. “Had to build it after our last case.”
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Our minds flashed back to that mission.
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It was a race against time—to save a blind pianist’s soul. He was poisoned during a performance in a bar. His soul was targeted by The Conqueror. We had just seven days.
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And we were clueless at first. Because… how do you receive visions from someone who can't see?
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But something magical happened.
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The visions weren’t empty. They were different.
Enhanced. Refined. Powerful.
It was echolocation—but evolved. Not like bats. It wasn’t sonar. It was something we called...
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Beyond Vision.
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His heightened hearing allowed him to interpret echoes, air pressure, and even micro-changes in temperature to build a full mental map of the room. I saw what he felt. I saw through sound.
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We saw a glass of wine placed on his table by a waiter. That was the poison. The CCTV outside helped us trace the waiter, but he wasn’t the killer—just scared.
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A woman had gifted the wine to the pianist. She was a rich businesswoman, impressed by his music. But she had no idea the drink was poisoned. She didn’t even know the pianist’s name.
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We were stuck.
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The week was ending. Jegan was losing hope. We all were. Until Martin, with his cop's instinct, spotted the clue in my drawings. I had drawn a faint image—a face—seated directly across from the poisoned glass.
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A blind spot in the CCTV footage. A man who entered and exited without being seen clearly.
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We tracked every angle. No clear face. But we were lucky. The waiter had accidentally seen the man’s face reflected on his phone lock screen.
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That face… belonged to the pianist’s own brother.
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He was mentally unstable. He killed his brother out of jealousy and delusion. His wife had compared the two once—and he thought she was cheating on him.
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It was a horrifying end—but the soul was saved. Barely.
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That case changed us.
It changed me.
It taught us how fragile clues can be. How vital clear visions are.
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And that’s why Jegan built The Reflector.
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To make sure we never miss even a single breath of detail again.
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I looked at Jegan with deep respect. Not just for his mind, but for his heart. He believed in our purpose. He turned fear into tools. Weakness into strength.
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“Bro,” I said, “you’re not just an inventor. You’re the future of this team.”
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He smiled, modest as always.
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Martin added, “Your inventions save more than lives. They save truth.”
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Outside, the KL sky started to darken, but inside that small house in Cheras, a light was burning—brighter than ever.
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and then Add to home screen.