CHAPTER 7:
CHILD OF THE PSYCHOPATH
Seyren's POV
"Breaking news: - Former criminal known as Red Bull has escaped from Manila City Jail without the police being aware. Red Bull, previously identified as a psychopath responsible for the murder of exactly 813 people worldwide over 30 years, had surrendered before but has now escaped again. It can be remembered that he tried to escape a decade ago but unfortunately he was caught in the house of the Camerons. After 18 years of hiding his identity, his real name is now being revealed to the public. He is Verick Lim Jeon, a retired Korean actor. The Philippine government is offering a reward of 50 million pesos for anyone who can provide information leading to the whereabouts of Verick Lim Jeon."
My jaw dropped in utter shock as the news flashed across the screen.
The reaction from my colleagues at headquarters mirrored my own; their faces were a mix of disbelief and outrage.
It was as if an unseen force had taken hold of them, causing their anger to boil over.
Their reactions were intense, filled with a frustration that was almost palpable.
I found myself frozen, my gaze locked on the TV screen.
It felt as though time itself had slowed down-the world around me seemed to move in slow motion, and the usual clamor of office activity faded into a distant hum.
The only sound I could clearly hear was the pounding of my own heartbeat, growing louder and more insistent with every passing second.
On the screen, a photograph of an older Verick Jeon was displayed.
The image was startling: the face of the man who had once been a notorious psychopath was now staring back at me from the television.
The reality of it hit me hard-this was the same psychopath who had terrorized the world, evading capture and causing fear wherever he went.
He had escaped again, defying all efforts to contain him.
The sheer weight of the news left me grappling with a chilling sense of dread.
What does this mean for the future?
What will the world face now that he is free once more?
---
??? POV
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon and stars began to dot the evening sky, the once-bustling streets were now eerily deserted.
The vibrant, lively atmosphere had given way to an unsettling calm.
Children who had earlier been seen playing in the streets were now confined to their homes, their laughter replaced by whispers of fear.
The sense of dread was not confined to Manila alone; it had spread throughout the Philippines.
The news of the escaped killer had sent ripples of terror across the nation, particularly among the elderly, who were gripped by a deep-seated fear.
The scene outside resembled a war zone.
Police officers roamed the streets in patrol cars, while helicopters buzzed overhead, their searchlights scanning the area.
The air was thick with tension, and every corner of the city was being scrutinized.
The government and emergency responders had been put on high alert.
They were combing through every possible hideout-from narrow alleyways to luxurious mansions-leaving no stone unturned in their quest to recapture the fugitive.
Despite their exhaustive efforts, the elusive killer remained hidden.
Inside one dimly lit house, the distant roar of a helicopter was slightly muffled.
The room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by a single flickering light.
At the dining table, an elderly man sat with an air of calm wearing an orange shirt and pants.
He ate with a refined grace, every movement deliberate and precise.
I, seated directly across from him, observed him intently.
"Why did you really came straight to me, Red Bull?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief.
My gaze was fixed on the man before me, scrutinizing every detail.
He responded with a composed smile, continuing his meal with an air of nonchalance.
His eating mannerisms were sophisticated, displaying impeccable table etiquette.
"Can't I just visit my child?" he inquired, his eyes glinting with a taunting challenge.
The darkness in his gaze was palpable, a stark contrast to his outward calm.
His smile, though polite, did not reach his eyes.
The insincerity was evident, and I met his stare with equal intensity, unflinching.
"Didn't I tell you to lay low?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady as he sipped from a glass of water, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
"Holding back isn't my style. That's Gordon's thing," he replied, shrugging off the concern with a hint of arrogance.
"You realize that the police might come here looking for you, don't you? No matter where you try to hide, they'll keep searching until they find you," I warned, meeting his gaze head-on.
His smile vanished, replaced by a more composed and elegant posture.
"Surely, you wouldn't want to betray your own father, would you?" he asked, his tone a mixture of mockery and challenge.
"There's a 50 million peso reward for anyone who can provide information about your location. Imagine how much more it would be if I were the one to turn you in," I said, adopting a mocking tone that mirrored his earlier confidence.
He responded with a knowing smile.
He tilted his head, and, by some coincidence, I tilted mine in the same manner.
We blinked in sync and adjusted our head positions simultaneously, a strange mirroring of gestures.
It was clear he was assessing me with the same intensity that I was scrutinizing him.
"Your eyes are quite striking; no one would suspect you have Asian heritage, also, could offer you ten billion dollars if you wanted. I'd give everything for my child," he said with a confidence that seemed almost delusional, before straightening his posture.
A brief, tense silence enveloped us. I remained skeptical, unable to fully trust his words.
"All I want is to achieve my dream. You must have heard about my past actions," I said. He nodded, his smile returning as if acknowledging my statement.
He continued eating with a persistent smile, unfazed by the gravity of our conversation.
"Four bodies in less than a month and one survivor who didn't even recognize you. Not bad," he commented, maintaining an emotionless expression.
"Statue of Comfort Women and the garage on Kim Legazpi's farm," I said, referring to specific locations.
He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, and I responded with a knowing smirk.
"Search if you like. It might help increase the numbers you're looking for," I taunted.
The sound of a police siren grew louder, and his eyes widened with panic.
He abruptly stood and darted past me.
His cowardice was striking.
I left the dining room and peeked out the door, observing the police as they approached the house.
The sheer number of them was overwhelming.
Despite my reluctance, I opened the door when they knocked.
"How can I assist you?"
---
Seyren's POV
"Ano pong maitutulong ko sa inyo?" I asked the police officer once I opened the gate of our mansion.
"Oh... Valencia ikaw na ba yan?" My brow furrowed as I processed what the police officer said.
I raised an eyebrow at his strange behavior and his overly familiar tone.
Despite my confusion, he maintained a broad grin.
"It's me-Maverick, the guy who courted you back in high school. Remember? You cried because you couldn't reject me; you were afraid of hurting my feelings," he said, taking off his police cap to reveal a face I hadn't seen in years.
I stared at him, trying to place his features. His face was somewhat familiar but had changed since our school days.
"Big fat Maverick, my rival on the honor list," he reminded me, his grin widening.
Recognition dawned on me, and my eyes widened. A warm smile spread across my face as the memory of him clicked into place.
"Marvin Maverick Manalo?!" I exclaimed, pointing at him in surprise.
"Yes, that's me! MMM!" he confirmed enthusiastically, his grin showing he was genuinely pleased to reconnect.
"Oh my God, I didn't recognize you! How have you been?" I said, reaching out for a high-five and a shoulder bump.
I then patted him on the back a few times, thrilled to see a familiar face in such an unexpected situation.
"I'm doing great. I'm now a police officer. What about you? I heard you've become a detective," he said, his tone shifting to a more professional note.
"Yes, that's right," I responded with a confident nod, a little pleased with the acknowledgment.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," he said with a chuckle.
"But we're here for a search operation regarding the escaped criminal. Can we search your house? Just for a few minutes; it's a routine procedure."
I glanced outside where nearly a dozen officers were gathered, preparing for the search.
Turning back, I saw Azara standing at the entrance, her eyes fixed on me.
Elowen and Manang Marie were beside her, their expressions showing a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Sure, feel free to look around," I said, and Marvin signaled his team to enter the house.
He stayed by my side as the officers began their search.
"I can't believe I didn't recognize you. You look even more stunning now," he complimented, and my smile grew even wider.
"Don't flatter me too much; I just finished dinner. By the way, any updates on the escaped criminal? Still no leads?" I asked, switching to a more serious tone.
Marvin's smile faded, replaced by a look of frustration and weariness.
"Unfortunately, no. We'll be searching all night to find that guy. It's been a rough night."
"It's remarkable how a psychopath can turn into such a feared criminal. They really terrify everyone," I remarked, glancing around the house.
Marvin's gaze returned to Azara, who stood with Elowen, both of them watching intently as the search continued.
"Psychopaths like Verick are dangerous. Especially someone like him," Marvin agreed in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Azara.
Is it just me, or does Azara seem to be looking even more beautiful?
She's always been pretty, but now she seems to have a certain radiance.
"Negative, sir!" called out one of the officers as he exited the house, followed by the rest of the team.
"We'll head out now. Apologies for the inconvenience, Detective Valencia," Marvin said, redirecting his attention to me.
"Let's keep in touch. My number hasn't changed. Is yours still the same?" I asked with a smile.
"Yes, it's the same as before," he confirmed.
He made a calling gesture with his hand and winked.
As he turned to leave, I playfully rolled my eyes and closed the gate behind him.
As I approached the entrance of the house, Elowen and Manang Marie had already gone inside.
Azara, however, remained outside, so I paused before entering.
"Aren't you coming in?" I asked. She gave me a cold, disdainful look before stepping closer.
She had to look up slightly, as I was taller than her.
Our gazes locked, and I stared back, trying to understand her expression.
I was about to ask her why she was staring so intensely when she suddenly slapped me hard across the face.
The sound was sharp and echoed through the house.
The force of the slap caused my head to whip to the side, and I felt a numb sting on my cheek.
"What was th-" I started to ask, but before I could finish, she slapped me again, this time on the other side of my face.
"Ate!" Elowen shouted, rushing to stand between us.
"How dare you allow those cops into my house? Who are you to let them in here?" Azara yelled furiously, her face flushed with anger.
I struggled to compose myself, though my face was still throbbing from the force of the slaps.
Her blows were so painful it felt like my very soul had been knocked out of me, scattered somewhere far away.
"Ate, wala siyang magagawa dun, kailangan iyon-"
"Marami siyang magagawa, Elowen. She's a fucking detective, pwede niyang i-reject iyong request and those officers would just let it slide since she's a fucking detective." Meeting her almost like ocean eyes, I saw it glistened.
Tears gathered in Azara's eyes, which made me furrow my brow in confusion.
The intense look of anger and frustration on her face was unsettling.
As I tried to process what had just happened, I began to feel a growing heat on my cheeks.
FYI, I wasn't blushing from embarrassment; her slaps had hurt so much that it felt as if my face was on fire.
The pain was sharp and stinging, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
"Don't act like you own this house," Azara snapped, her voice filled with disdain.
"You're only here because you're needed right now, but as soon as that's no longer the case, you'll be shown the door." She pointed a finger at me, her expression one of contempt, before turning on her heel and walking out.
"Ate Azara!!" Elowen called her sister's name
"Ate Azara ano ba. Magusap nga tayo!"
"Ate Azara!!" Elowen, looking worried but resolute, followed her inside.
Left alone outside, I watched Azara's retreating figure with a mix of anger and bewilderment.
Her body language was tense, and I could see her fists clenched at her sides, as if she were ready to strike again.
The sight of her like this only heightened my sense of unease.
"Madame, namumula na po ang inyong mukha. Halika po sa kusina nang madampian iyan ng yelo." Manang Marie said, approaching me with concern.
Her kindness was a small comfort amidst the turmoil.
I turned my gaze to her, trying to muster a smile to show my gratitude, but the pain was so intense that I couldn't manage it.
The burning sensation on my cheek was only getting worse, and smiling felt too painful.
"Thank you," I said quietly, following her inside. I could still feel the stinging heat of the slaps, a constant reminder of the how she could be so aggressive.
Volleyball player nga pala siya kaya mabigat ang kamay.
The pain was more than physical; it was a sharp, jarring reminder of the hostility I was facing.
As we walked to the kitchen, I tried to steady my thoughts and calm my racing heart.
The impact of Azara's slaps had truly jolted me, shaking me from my composure and forcing me to confront the intensity of the situation.
As I applied ice to my cheek, trying to soothe the burning pain, I couldn't help but overhear Chef Jose and Manang Marie discussing what had just happened.
They were openly criticizing Azara, expressing their anger and frustration.
They felt that I didn't deserve to be slapped and were very vocal about their disapproval of her actions.
They vented their feelings, calling Azara's behavior unacceptable and unjust.
I listened to their conversation without commenting, choosing instead to focus on the cold relief the ice provided.
The sympathy and support from Chef Jose and Manang Marie were a bit entertaining, even though I was still processing the intensity of that shit.
That hurts a lot, I ain't kidding.
As I applied ice to my cheek, I found myself lost in thought. My mind wandered to the one everyone now fears.
Red Bull.
Red Bull and the possibility of his child.
Is it really possible for a psychopath's child to become a psychopath too?
It sounds so impossible, knowing it's a mental illness.
But when I searched it on Google, it said it happens 100% of the time, though not all psychopaths are killers.
Some just have demonic minds.
If Liam is indeed a psychopath, would he kill?
He doesn't look like a psychopath to me. He seems innocent.
Or am I just not good at reading people?
"Hey, are you alright?" I snapped back to reality at the sound of Elowen's voice. I looked up and saw her approaching.
She smiled at me apologetically, and I mirrored her expression.
"Sorry for what my sister Azara did. She just got carried away by her emotions. She can't work again as an actress or model until her wounds heal," she explained as she came closer.
I turned to face her, and she gently held the back of my hand, the one holding the ice.
"It's okay, it doesn't hurt too much." I wanted to smile, but my cheek hurt too much to manage it.
"You don't deserve this... Let me help you." She took the ice from my hand and applied it to my cheek.
Even a small smile was impossible, but my eyes managed to convey my gratitude.
"Why are your eyes wandering again?" she asked, gently brushing my jawline while applying the ice to my cheek.
"I just remembered what you said to me last time when you applied ice to my elbow." She furrowed her brow and raised an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes at her, realizing she didn't remember.
"Remember when you told me my eyes were like a void?" I reminded her.
She smiled and giggled.
"Sorry, I was just kidding that time. Your eyes aren't empty. In fact, they're full of softness and love. Just ask anyone here in the house, and they'll say the same." I shrugged.
I acted like I didn't believe her.
"Let's change the subject. I'm really grateful to you, Seyren, for being so patient with Azara, even though she should be the one showing more patience with you. Thank you for not retaliating earlier." I just nodded at her words.
"I dislike her, but I still respect her. Not just because she's older, but because I respect you and Uncle Elliot and Aunt Azalea even more." Elowen gave me a look as if her heart was melting.
"You're such a sweet kid. Your future spouse will be very lucky." She said.
"More like I'm the lucky one for finding someone to marry," I replied confidently. She raised an eyebrow.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked. I shook my head.
"Boyfriend?" I shook my head again.
"Crush?" I shook my head a third time.
"Then why are you so confident you'll be lucky in marriage?"
"I just feel it. And I wouldn't marry anyone who doesn't meet my standards, you know." My voice dropped to a childish tone.
"What are your standards for a man or a woman?" she asked, applying ice to my other cheek.
"Simple, someone like Samantha Baek," I replied absentmindedly.
"Or maybe just Baek Samantha herself," I added, wiggling my eyebrows.
"Huh? Samantha Baek is in her mid-40s now. She could be your mother." She laughed while focusing on my cheek.
"I love older women, so it's okay." Elowen laughed even more at my response.
"Alright, I'll support whatever you want. Besides, it's better to have a more mature spouse to take care of you and your little buddy," she teased, pretending to pinch my private parts.
I quickly dodged.
"Hey, don't grab it. We're not kids anymore." She frowned at me and almost hit me, but I dodged just in time.
"I wasn't planning to grab it! And I've seen it before, don't be so dramatic." My eyes widened, and I backed away a little as she hit my arm.
"That was when it was small, yes." I replied.
"Oh, did it get bigger?" She raised an eyebrow. I looked at her incredulously.
"Yes, it grew. And FYI, it's 8 inches now," I said confidently, showing the length with my fingers. Elowen facepalmed.
Realizing what I said, I felt embarrassed. I bit my lip at my stupidity.
I'm such an idiot.
I turned around and pretended to look for something in the fridge.
"You're really crazy. Take care of yourself, now that you're 8 inches," Elowen teased as she left, laughing. I wanted to come up with a comeback, but I decided not to respond.
Noticing there was no lemon juice in the fridge, I decided to go out and buy some at the convenience store.
I can't get through the day without lemon juice; it's like my energy drink.
---
No one's POV
To: Liam
Come to the house right now.
From: Liam
Sorry baby, I'm occupied right now.
To: Liam
Is that more important than me?
From: Liam
Babe, come on! I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.
To: Liam
Forget it. Goodnight.
Azara, irritated with her boyfriend, threw her phone in frustration.
She was not only annoyed with the people around her but also with herself.
As she sat on the bed, she stared at her trembling hands.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she recalled the actions she regretted.
"Fuck!" The word echoed repeatedly in her mind.
She buried her face in the pillow and screamed until she was exhausted.
Afterwards, she decided to compose herself. Without a word to anyone, she left the house, wandering aimlessly.
---
Seyren's POV
"You're spacing out again," Detective Guerrero said.
I was currently sitting at my desk, staring at the wall.
"Wait. What happened to your face? Why is there a handprint?" he asked, noticing my cheek.
He was right; there was indeed a handprint on my cheek. I hadn't put on any makeup earlier because it stung to apply anything to my skin.
"I just got slapped by Azara Cameron," I said without much enthusiasm. He already knew my background thanks to Detective Skyler.
His eyes widened in shock.
"Really? Oh shit, I'd love to get slapped by her too. I heard Azara Cameron's slaps are legendary. Many of her co-actresses have said that when she slaps them, it's like their souls leave their bodies," he said, laughing. I couldn't help but laugh too because it was true.
"My soul practically left my body last night," I admitted.
"Why did she slap you?" he asked.
"I ate the cookies her boyfriend gave her," I said, then went back to my work.
"What? Seriously?" he asked, not believing me.
"Yes," I replied, still not interested in the conversation, and turned on my computer.
"Are you sure?"
"Who got slapped, you or me?" I raised my voice playfully. I looked into his eyes, and he looked back at me.
"You look like Sasagurl with that blush," he joked, making both of us laugh.
"But at least you got slapped by the one and only Azara Cameron. I wish I had that honor," he said dreamily.
There was no denying Azara's beauty and incredible talent as an actress.
She was an outstanding actress and a stunning model.
When she could still work and before her life got complicated, she always had a lot of projects lined up.
You'd hear that while she was in the middle of filming one movie, there was already another contract waiting for her for a new role.
Her movies always drew huge crowds to the theaters.
She was not only famous in the Philippines but also internationally. All her movies and series were available on Netflix.
Back in high school and college, she was always the talk of the school.
She had been an actress since she was a child.
As I was engrossed in my work, a fellow police officer entered, looking stressed and sleep-deprived.
"What happened with your operation?" Detective Guerrero inquired.
"We still haven't found the girl. There's no trace, no CCTV footage of where she might have gone or what happened to her. She just vanished," the officer said, approaching Detective Guerrero.
"Is this about the hotel girl?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am" the officer responded simply but respectfully.
It had already been weeks since the girl had gone missing.
Another case that seemed unsolvable.
It was enough to give anyone a headache, but thankfully, none of us were quick to give up.
I had almost reached my breaking point, but thanks to Neome, my confidence had soared.
"Detective Valencia!" I was startled as another teammate burst into our office.
He sprinted towards me, nearly tripping in his haste.
"Detective Valencia, you need to see this. Detective Skyler instructed me to give this to you," he said, handing me two rolled-up papers.
I first read the smaller one, which detailed the situation involving the nun and the priest before their incident.
Next, I unrolled the larger paper, which contained the DNA results for Red Bull and Liam.
They matched, confirming that Liam Alcantara was indeed the son of a psychopath.
My mind was still reeling from processing this information when I received a text, as did Detective Guerrero.
We exchanged glances before checking our phones.
From: Detective Skyler
Get to this location immediately, and bring Detective Guerrero with you.
[Location sent]
We looked at each other again. I nodded, and we quickly informed our colleagues before sprinting out of headquarters.
Using Detective Guerrero's car, we drove to Dapitan.
Upon arriving at the location given by Detective Skyler, we saw the missing girl surrounded by media.
A DNC barricade tape cordoned off the small house where she stood.
As we approached, she distanced herself from the media and led us inside the small house.
My stomach churned at the sight of a young man's corpse lying face down on the floor, his back riddled with stab wounds.
A knife was embedded in his head, and his hands were tied to a Ken doll and a Barbie doll.
On the floor, a heart was drawn with blood, and inside this heart was a framed family picture of the young victim.
"Here's what we found at the crime scene," Detective Skyler said, handing me four ziplock bags.
One contained a severed finger.
Another one is a mini figure of man made of gold.
The third one is a picture of Nun Jennifer standing next to what seemed to be her twin, also dressed as a nun.
The last one is photograph of a priest in a bar, holding a drink labeled 'Jesus'.
The evidence was grotesque and puzzling, each item more disturbing than the last. It was clear this was no ordinary case.
I glanced at Detective Guerrero, who looked equally troubled.
The media buzzed outside, oblivious to the grim reality within these walls.
The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on us both as we pondered the implications of the items before us.
"This is... beyond anything we've seen," I murmured.
"This is the part where you should keep an eye on Liam now... It's positive, right?"
"Yes..."
---
No one's POV
In a dimly lit room with no windows and thick walls surrounding it, a man emerged from the shadows, his presence casting an eerie stillness over the space.
He approached a desk set against a wall that was plastered with grim photographs of deceased individuals.
The wall was a macabre gallery.
At the center was a photo of Mr. Alvarez, his body still fresh with blood, eyes vacant and lifeless.
Next to it was an image of Mr. Kim, his face caught in a moment of stillness as he sat in his car, unaware of his imminent fate.
Another photo showed Nun Jennifer, captured in her final moments before the flames consumed her, kneeling in front of an altar, her expression one of serene acceptance.
Nearby was a haunting image of the priest, his charred remains juxtaposed against the sanctity of the host that lay upon his leg.
The latest addition to this grim collection was a photograph of a young man, his body sprawled face down, devoid of life.
The man stared at this new picture, his gaze cold and analytical.
His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his pants, his fingers curling and uncurling as he silently processed the scene.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the ringing of his phone.
The sound was jarring in the otherwise quiet room.
He glanced at the screen and saw his girlfriend's name flashing.
The light from the phone illuminated his face, revealing a momentary flicker of emotion-something between annoyance and indifference.
Instead of answering, he let it ring.
He listened as the ringing stopped and was replaced by the sound of her voice, leaving a message:
[Liam, can you call me back? I'm so lonely right now. I want you.]
The man listened to her words, his expression hardening.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket without a second thought.
His focus returned to the wall of photographs, his mind working through the connections, the details, the plan.
Each photo was a piece of a larger puzzle, each named a thread in a web of darkness and death.
The man's eyes moved from one image to the next, eyes devoid of emotion nor remorse.
He moved to the desk and pulled out a file, its contents neatly organized yet brimming with sinister intent.
Inside were notes, maps, and more photographs, each item a crucial piece of his elaborate scheme.
His fingers traced the intricate lines and symbols he had meticulously drawn, planning his next move with the precision of a master chess player, each detail considered, each step deliberate.
He wrote something on his paper, a name of a woman: Evelyn Parker.
He retrieved a photograph of a beautiful woman and affixed it to his desk, the latest addition to his macabre collection.
The room felt like a shrine to his work, each photo a testament to his skill and his cold, unfeeling nature.
It was a chilling gallery of his malevolence, each image a silent scream of his victims' last moments.
The message from his girlfriend was already forgotten, a fleeting distraction from his true purpose.
His mind was a labyrinth of dark thoughts and meticulous plans, each step calculated, each victim chosen with care.
As he closed the file and looked back at the wall, he felt a sense of satisfaction, his twisted mind relishing the order and chaos he had wrought.
The game was far from over, and he knew it was just getting started.
"Evelyn Parker..." he mumbled, staring back at the picture.
He could already imagine the fear in her eyes, the desperation in her voice, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
Each step he took, each move he made, was part of a grand design, a dance of death that no one could truly appreciate.
He thrived in the shadows, where his true nature could flourish.
"You're next, Evelyn Parker"
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