Red Herring

*Rinat: A mysterious man who turned up at Kyrie out of the blue. Appears to have a great interest in Cyril.

*Cyril: The bartender of Kyrie who serves up lies mixed with truth.

*“Right now, I’d just like to spell those lips of yours honest for once.”

The Cataclysm swept through the world overrun by nuclear dust and toxic waste, leaving nothing standing but a single steel tower constructed by a dictator. The clicking of turning cogwheels filling that tower purged the earth and saved humanity, whose remnants gathered around the Central Tower to survive.

Against this backdrop, Cyril, a bartender in East Downtown, finds himself unexpectedly entangled one rainy day in the case of a serial killer known as “Alice,” caught in a clandestine battle of wits with a man named Rinat in a race to uncover one another’s secrets.

–

A chill ran through him. Cyril jerked back, letting out a sound of dismay. The young man’s hand remained where he’d just been, hovering in the space between Cyril’s shoulder and throat.

“Ah, I missed,” the man complained lightheartedly, unclenching his fist from its failed attempt to snatch at the end of the ribbon. “You’re quicker than I thought. I shouldn’t have underestimated you—ought to have held your hands down first.”

If anything, that was Cyril’s line. Stealthy as a cat, that one.

“I was quite curious… just what it was you were hiding under that ribbon.”

“This ribbon—”

“Ah, I heard. From that corner over there.” The young man raised his hands to cut him off. “You said it was a memento of your mother’s? She must’ve been quite wealthy, to dr*pe herself in gold-dusted silk over cheap nylon.”

Cyril smiled inscrutably, inwardly clicking his tongue with annoyance. “It was a gift from my father, and he was incredibly wealthy, so…”

Now it was the stranger’s turn to smile, his ash-gray eyes curving with amusement. “Of course. If that really is a memento, that is.”