“What are you doing here?” Joe asked, his voice sharp.
His face was flushed from the heat, but his eyes—burning red—were filled with anger.
He wasn’t in his uniform today, yet somehow his presence alone made her feel safe.
The moment she saw him, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly.
“I thought… today was my last day,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she wiped away her tears.
For a second, she allowed herself to breathe—to feel safe.
Safe because of Joe.
But Joe didn’t soften.
He stood there, rigid, his jaw clenched, still furious.
“What are you even doing here?” he repeated, his tone colder this time.
“I… I was…” Her words faded, slipping away as fear tightened around her throat.
“Are you mad or something? Just leave this crazy job!” he yelled, his voice echoing around them.
His anger only made her more scared.
Her hands trembled slightly.
“She… she scratched me… that stranger… the man was there,” she stammered.
“There was no one,” he snapped immediately.
“Don’t play dumb. Now go back to the office.”
Before she could say anything else, he turned and walked away.
Moments later, his car disappeared, leaving her alone in that eerie, silent place.
The air suddenly felt heavier.
Back at the office, she tried to steady herself and quickly made a call.
“Someone will send you an address. Can you check the CCTV footage for me?” she said, her voice still shaking.
Without waiting for a reply, she cut the call.
An hour later, her phone rang.
“The gas station doesn’t have any CCTV.”
The call ended.
Silence filled the room.
Slowly, she lowered her head onto the desk.
A single tear slipped from her eye, followed by another—quiet, helpless, and unseen.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, there was nothing—just darkness.
But then, the darkness glitched.
A flash.
A book.
The Glitch.
It appeared for barely a fraction of a second, yet it felt too real to be a dream.
Her eyes snapped open.
She gasped, her breathing uneven, her heart racing wildly against her chest.
“What… was that?” she whispered to herself.
Why is that book stuck in my mind?
Still shaken, she reached for the glass of water on her desk and drank it in one breath, trying to steady herself.
After a moment, she forced herself to focus.
Work.
She needed something real.
With slightly trembling hands, she opened the file her boss had given her.
The first page stared back at her.
Bold letters.
“Shelly Murder Case.”
A chill ran down her spine.
For a moment, she forgot everything else.
Her mind suddenly became sharp and alert.
She adjusted her glasses and began reading carefully.
“Shelly… a school teacher, 25 years old, living with her boyfriend… murdered and found inside her classroom.”
She took a deep breath.
Her fingers tightened around the file as she turned the next page.
Photographs.
Her eyes froze.
Shelly’s body was shown in disturbing detail.
It wasn’t just the death—it was the brutality.
A deep cut had split her body, exposing internal organs.
Her skin had turned a sickly greenish shade, making the scene even more horrifying.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself not to look away.
The report stated that the murder weapon had not been found.
And there were no clear leads on the culprit.
Just fragments of evidence… and silence.
She slowly closed the file, her hands trembling slightly.
Something about this case didn’t feel ordinary.
Now Elise’s curiosity started taking over her mind.
She asked herself about the next clue—but in the next page, she found nothing useful.
Her boss had messaged her again: Complete this investigation quickly and solve the case before the police take over.
She silently cursed him in her heart.
Getting up from the chair, she walked into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee.
Then she sat near the window.
The room was quiet, the air calm.
Her tired hair gently moved with the breeze.
Trying to focus, she opened Shelly’s Instagram account on her phone.
After scrolling through several posts and hidden details, she reached a conclusion—the relationship had been private, which made the case even more complicated.
She spent the entire night going through the account.
Finally, she found a man.
At first, she couldn’t recognize him.
His face felt familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
She tried to recall every detail, searching her memory.
Then she found his profile name.
Ryan.
A 30-year-old man, working as a civil officer.
Her instincts sharpened instantly.
She decided she needed to meet him.
At 10 a.m.
in Paris, the city was already awake in its quiet, effortless rhythm.
Sunlight slid between the tall Haussmann buildings, spilling gold onto the narrow streets and warming the pale stone facades.
Cafés were half-filled—locals leaning over small tables, the soft clink of porcelain cups mixing with the low hum of morning conversations.
The air carried a faint mix of fresh bread from nearby boulangeries and the distant sound of traffic moving like a steady pulse through the city.
Inside Elise’s office, the atmosphere felt completely different.
The space was modern and slightly minimalist—glass walls, steel edges, and neat rows of desks lit by soft daylight filtering through large windows.
Outside, Paris looked calm and beautiful.
Inside, everything felt sharper, quieter, more focused.
Elise sat at her desk, her screen glowing in front of her.
Files, case notes, and blurred images from Shelly’s investigation were still open, untouched for a moment.
A half-finished cup of coffee rested beside her keyboard, now cold.
Her hair was slightly undone, her expression tired but alert—like someone who hadn’t fully left the night behind.
The office around her was slowly coming to life.
Phones rang occasionally.
A printer hummed in the corner.
Colleagues exchanged brief words, their voices kept low out of habit, as if even sound needed permission to exist in that space.
But Elise wasn’t really there in the present.
Her mind was still inside the case.
Her boss called her into his cabin.
The moment Elise stepped inside, she felt the heavy atmosphere settle around her.
“Any update?” he asked sharply.
“It’s only been one day.”
Elise kept her voice steady.
“Yes… but it’s still in early stages.”
Her boss leaned back in his chair, placing his phone flat on the desk with a deliberate motion that made her tense slightly.
“Are you still stuck on that case?” he asked, his tone colder now.
“Elise, I’m telling you for the last time—leave it. You should not be involved in this.”
She didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, she met his gaze.
“What is your plan with Shelly’s case?” she asked slowly.
A brief silence filled the room.
“I am working on it,” she said finally, more controlled this time.
Her boss exhaled, clearly done with the conversation.
“Okay. Now go.”She hesitated for a moment, still holding the door handle.
“Give me a car,” she said firmly.
Her boss raised an eyebrow.
“A car?”
“Yes,” Elise replied.
“I need to meet someone connected to the case.”
The room went quiet for a second.
He studied her expression, as if trying to decide whether to argue or simply let her go.
Finally, he leaned back with a tired sigh.
“Fine. But you’re on your own responsibility.”
Elise didn’t wait for him to change his mind.
“Understood,” she said quickly.
And without another word, she left the cabin, her mind already focused on one name—
Ryan.
Her destination was EIB Trocadéro Primary School.


The name alone carried a certain weight—quiet luxury, polished discipline, and a world she wasn’t sure she belonged to.
The cab slowed down as it turned into the street near Trocadéro.
Morning light spilled softly over the buildings, and in the distance, the faint silhouette of the Eiffel Tower stood like a silent witness.
She stepped out, adjusting the strap of her bag, her eyes instinctively scanning everything—the clean pavement, the neatly dressed children, parents speaking in effortless French and English.
There was something intimidating about how perfect it all looked.
For a moment, she just stood there.
As if crossing those gates meant stepping into a version of life she hadn’t rehearsed for.
A group of students walked past her, laughing lightly, their voices blending into a language she understood—but not completely.
She tightened her grip on her bag.
And then, without giving herself another second to hesitate—
She walked in.
The bell rang sharply, echoing through the halls of EIB Trocadéro Primary School, and children rushed to their respective classrooms.
Elise walked in, her bag slung over one shoulder as usual, her pace calm compared to the sudden chaos around her.
The hallway slowly began to empty.
Her eyes drifted toward a long wall lined with large framed photographs—scientists, physicians, chemists… even great fighters and Nobel Prize winners.
She slowed down.
For a second, it felt like they were watching her.
She looked away.
Just as she reached the corridor near her classroom, a cleaner hurried toward her.
“Miss… this was given for you.”
Elise frowned and took the folded paper.
“Who gave it to you?”
The cleaner turned back, confused.
“He was just here… but now—”
No one.
The corridor was empty.
“It’s okay. You can go,” Elise said quietly.
She unfolded the paper.
Her grip tightened.
“You can’t solve this mystery.”
A strange silence settled around her.
Elise looked u p.
Nothing.
And then—
Her breath caught.
At the end of the corridor—
She saw something unrealistic, unbelievable,that make her completely lost….
Some mysteries are not meant to be solved.
But Elise has already stepped too far to turn back.
The question is— Was that really Shelly… or something far worse?
And why does every clue lead toward The Glitch?