The Perfect Crime Chapter 1

Preface：（At the press conference for the serial murder case,

my foster sister suddenly accused me before everyone of being the real killer.

With tears streaming down her face, she claimed I possessed a supernatural ability for "perfect crimes"—

that I could make everyone blind to evidence of my crimes, then fabricate the truth about the murders myself.

Facing the reporters' questions, my foster sister merely smiled coldly and played surveillance footage for all to see—

at the scene of the final murder, I carefully wiped down the murder weapon and placed it in the victim's hand, meticulously staging every detail.

Overnight, all my achievements, all the truths I'd uncovered, became ironclad proof that I'd orchestrated everything and framed innocent people.

I fell from legendary detective to criminal, unable to defend myself.

So I began to run.

But every time, my escape route was precisely intercepted by my foster sister, forcing me to desperately change course and flee again.

She smiled confidently and declared: "I won't let a criminal escape justice. I'm the most famous genius detective—he can't evade my pursuit!"

Finally, I chose the most tragic way to prove my innocence—leaping from a rooftop.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the press conference.）

"Marcus Lane is the real killer!"

Elena's voice cut through the conference room like a blade, piercing the ambient noise.

I jolted awake, looking at the curious crowd around me, realizing I'd been reborn.

Reborn on the very day Elena accused me of being the murderer.

I watched as she raised her hand, pointing at me, shouting:

"The reason no one discovered this truth is because he has the supernatural ability for perfect crimes!"

In an instant, I felt transported back to that rooftop, the excruciating pain of every bone shattering coursing through my nerves as I plummeted.

Captain James Wright's hand on my shoulder suddenly stiffened, the pride on his face freezing into disbelief.

"Elena, what... what are you talking about!"

Elena ignored him, her gaze locked on me. "I'm not lying!"

She turned to the reporters who'd fallen into shocked silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, doesn't it strike you as odd? Why is my brother always so precise in reconstructing a killer's psychology, depicting every detail of their crimes, even predicting their next moves?"

"Because he's not profiling a known killer—he's 'playing' a character he created himself!"

"He designs everything for this 'killer,' then goes on to 'solve' it like some kind of god!"

Supernatural abilities? Paranormal powers?

The crowd began murmuring, suspicious glances sweeping over me repeatedly.

"What are you saying? That Detective Lane staged everything?"

"That's impossible! The 'Rainy Night Butcher' killer, Derek Hayes, has been caught with solid evidence!"

"Officer Torres, this is a baseless accusation!"

"Evidence?" Elena laughed coldly, pulling a USB drive from her pocket. "Of course I have evidence."

She pushed through the agitated crowd and personally inserted the drive into the control console's computer.

On the large screen, a document opened:

In-Depth Analysis of the 'Rainy Night Butcher' Criminal Psychology and Behavioral Patterns.

Author: Marcus Lane.

My heart sank instantly.

This was a private note I'd written for the case, recording my most raw, boldest deductions. I'd stored it on an encrypted hard drive—besides me, no one else could possibly have seen it!

"Everyone, please look."

Elena's voice became that of a cold narrator. "In these notes, my brother precisely describes every psychological trait of the killer, every criminal habit, and even predicts the killer's next move with perfect accuracy."

Below, a detective who'd participated in the case nodded unconsciously. "Of course. Detective Lane's profiling reports are absolutely precise, as if he'd witnessed the crimes himself."

Elena smiled. "Yes, as if he'd seen it with his own eyes. Because this isn't psychological profiling at all—it's his criminal playbook!"

She scrolled the mouse, pulling up the report's final page, where text I'd never shown anyone appeared.

[After completing the third crime, the killer's psychological pressure will reach a threshold, very likely producing self-destructive tendencies. He will choose a place of special significance to him, leaving his final "work" as a farewell to this world. Predicted location: the abandoned clock tower in South District.]

This deduction, lacking sufficient evidence, I'd only kept as a memo, locked in the file's notes layer.

But not only did she know about it, she was displaying it to everyone!

"After writing this passage, my brother immediately deleted it."

"He didn't include it in the final report submitted to the police."

"Why?"

She answered her own question, her voice shrill.

"Because he is the killer! He didn't want anyone to know his final hiding place!"

"He wanted to admire his most perfect work in that place that belonged only to him, then disappear without a trace!"

Everyone was stunned by this closed loop of logic.