Chapter 1: The Enigmatic Professor

The rain fell in sheets against the tall windows of the university’s psychology department, casting dark reflections on the polished floors. In the farthest corner of the building, beyond the regular hum of student life, was an office known for its silence. Few dared to enter without invitation. The brass nameplate on the door read simply: Bleddyn Rowe, Professor of Forensic Psychology.

Inside, Bleddyn sat at his desk, surrounded by shelves of worn books and case files piled high. The dim light of a single desk lamp illuminated his sharp features—cold, calculating eyes that seemed to pierce through problems like a scalpel through flesh. His reputation for solving the most perplexing cases of criminal psychology was well-known, yet his ability to connect with people was nearly non-existent. He preferred the company of his books and notes, relying on intellect rather than empathy.

But today was different. Today, the university had insisted he take on an assistant. Someone to help organize his chaotic workload, someone who could keep pace with his unrelenting mind. It was a nuisance, he thought. He had no need for help, especially not from some inexperienced student.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Bleddyn said, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

The door creaked open, and Bernyce stepped inside. She hesitated for a moment, taking in the scene before her: a dark, almost foreboding room filled with the scent of old paper and coffee. Her eyes fell on the man seated at the desk, and she felt a small jolt of nervousness. He was as intimidating in person as she had heard—tall, lean, with an intensity that made her want to shrink back. But she didn’t.

“Professor Rowe?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

He glanced up briefly, barely acknowledging her presence. “You must be Bernyce,” he said, returning his attention to the case file in front of him. “Take a seat.”

Bernyce sat down, her mind racing. She had been warned about Bleddyn. He was brilliant but cold, capable of seeing through people with terrifying clarity. And yet, there was something about him that intrigued her—a sharpness that drew her in, even as it pushed others away.

“I assume you know why you’re here,” Bleddyn said without looking up. “The university thinks I need help. I don’t. But since you’re here, I expect you to keep up.”

Bernyce felt a spark of indignation but kept it in check. “I’m not here just to keep up,” she replied confidently. “I’m here to learn. To assist. If that’s not what you’re looking for, then this won’t work.”

Bleddyn paused, his eyes lifting from the papers to finally meet hers. He studied her for a long moment, his gaze intense and unreadable. Most people crumbled under his scrutiny, but not her. She met his gaze without flinching, something that mildly surprised him.

“We’ll see,” he said after a beat. “There’s a case I’m working on. A series of teenage disappearances. I need someone who can follow instructions and think critically. If you can do that, we might get along.”

Bernyce nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“Your best won’t be enough,” Bleddyn muttered under his breath, though loud enough for her to hear.

Undeterred, Bernyce leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. “What’s the case?”

Bleddyn handed her a file without a word. As she opened it, she was immediately confronted with grim photographs—faces of young girls, all missing within the last six months. Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to focus on the details. Missing persons cases were common, but something about this felt different. The disappearances were too precise, too calculated.

“These girls didn’t just vanish,” Bleddyn said quietly, as though reading her thoughts. “Someone took them. And I intend to find out why.”

Bernyce glanced up at him, her heart pounding slightly at the weight of the task ahead. “Where do we start?”

A faint smile, barely perceptible, tugged at the corner of Bleddyn’s mouth. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but Bernyce had seen it. For a brief moment, she wondered if there was more to him than the cold, intellectual exterior he presented.

“We start where the last girl was seen,” Bleddyn said, standing and grabbing his coat. “You’ll come with me. I hope you’re ready.”

Bernyce stood, following him toward the door. As they stepped out into the rain, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just crossed a threshold into something far darker—and far more complicated—than she had ever imagined.

And in the shadows of that first step, something else stirred between them, something unspoken yet undeniably present.

They were partners now, whether they liked it or not.