A murderer who had been on the run for years suddenly posted online, exposing his true identity.

He said he was terminally ill and didn’t have long to live.

He wanted to repent to the boy he had ultimately killed.

“There were 23 victims. Twenty-two of them were vile people.”

“Only the last boy was truly innocent.”

“I was deceived back then and wrongly harmed a good person. I regret it deeply.”

“I hope that after seeing this post, everyone can help me find his remains.”

“So he can finally rest in peace.”

The post didn’t draw much attention at first; most people were skeptical.

Some said the poster was chasing attention.

Others mocked him for using any means to gain traffic.

Only Grace Whitman replied.

“Samuel Yates, stop pretending. I know it’s you.”

——

So many years had passed, yet Grace’s profile picture hadn’t changed.

It was still the photo I had taken of her back then.

Only her username had changed—to a couple’s name with Zachary Wilson.

It seemed their relationship had gone smoothly all these years.

As I was lost in thought, more sarcastic comments appeared below.

The murderer, clearly irritated, began to explain:

“I’m really not lying. The last person I killed was a fresh graduate.”

“He was very young, just in his early twenties.”

“He was about to get married, but fate played a cruel joke, and he died by my hands.”

“Sigh, I truly regret it now.”

“I shouldn’t have believed the rumors. Because of a misunderstanding, I caused the death of an innocent life.”

To convince everyone, he revealed the time and place of the murder,

and described the entire process.

How he broke the victim’s legs so he couldn’t escape.

He pulled out his teeth and tongue so he couldn’t cry for help.

How he tortured him slowly, without mercy.

“It was winter then. The ground was frozen solid.”

“The body was hard to deal with, so we used extreme methods.”

“The organs were flushed into the water, and the bones were left nearby.”

“It’s a deserted place no one goes to. They should still be there.”

“I’m dying now and have no strength left. I can only leave this to you.”

“My death means nothing. I only hope he can rest in peace soon.”

Such a detailed confession was the strongest proof of all.

The tone in the comments slowly changed.

The post’s popularity surged.

Some people urgently tagged the cyber police, digging up every possible clue.

Others spontaneously formed a “bone-finding team,” hoping the poor boy could be buried soon.

Amid all the discussion,

only Grace’s comments stood out.

She stubbornly posted under the murderer’s account again and again.

“Samuel, stop pretending. I know it’s you.”

“We’re all adults now. Your tricks won’t fool me anymore.”

“You were the one who abandoned me first. I’ll never forgive you.”

“And I’m marrying Zachary soon.”

“I hope you won’t go this far just to break us up again.”

Looking at those comments,

I could almost see her furious expression.

Grace thought I was trying to revive our past.

That I pretended to be a murderer just to get her attention.

But she didn’t know that I—

was the twenty-third corpse.

In the distance, sirens echoed along the mountain road.

I recognized Grace at once from behind the dark figure.

Three years had gone by.

She was thinner and quieter.

Her movements were calmer, more practiced.

She was directing her team as they carefully searched the mountains.

While on the phone, she dialed my number and continued to complain.

“Samuel, that’s enough. There’s a limit to being childish.”

“You made such a huge scene just to see me.”

“Do you have any idea how many people won’t sleep tonight because of you?”

“It’s been so many years, yet your temper hasn’t changed at all. You’re still so willful and unreasonable.”

In Grace’s eyes, I was always that spoiled young master.

Making a big fuss over the smallest things.

Doing whatever I pleased because she liked me.

She had no idea I was already dead.

She didn’t know I died protecting her.

She only thought I was still resentful about what happened back then.

The moonlight was faint, casting a pale light over the ground.

Suddenly, I felt a trace of curiosity.

I wondered how Grace would react when she saw my remains.

Would she be shocked that the boy who once hid behind her had grown up?

Or would she be angry that I had caused her trouble yet again?

I couldn’t imagine the answer.

I could only hover above the city, quietly watching my former lover.

When the call wouldn’t connect, Grace sent four or five voice messages.

None of them received a reply.

After being ignored again and again, she grew irritated.

Just as she was about to pack up and head home,

a phone rang, breaking the stillness of the night.

I leaned closer to look.

The caller ID read: “My beloved Zachary, my husband.”

Soon after, Zachary’s gentle voice came through.

“Grace, it’s so late. Why aren’t you home yet?”

“The baby and I miss you so much.”

His warm, deep voice softened her expression.

Tenderness slipped into her tone.

“I miss you too. I’ll be home once I finish this case.”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Zachary let out a quiet sigh.

“I saw the post. You think it was Samuel, too, don’t you?”

“Sigh, Samuel’s always been like this. Don’t be mad at him.”

“After all… what happened back then was partly our fault.”

The words “back then” stirred something deep in Grace.

She hesitated, deleted her earlier accusations, and sent me another message.

“Samuel, if you really can’t let go of what happened back then, I can apologize.”

“After all, you’ll always be my…”

My what?

Grace stopped typing.

She fell silent.

And I sank into memory as well.

In truth, Grace and I shouldn’t have ended up like this.

According to how our lives were supposed to go,

we childhood sweethearts should have married at twenty, had children, and lived happily.

My mother and Aunt Margaret were close friends.

After my parents died in an accident, Aunt Margaret took me in.

She was busy with work.

Three years older than me, Grace took on the role of caring for me.

She was kind to me in every possible way.

When I was eighteen, just because I casually said,

“Women in police uniforms are the coolest.”

Grace firmly gave up her dream major.

She applied to the police academy and became a criminal investigator.

Back then, holding her acceptance letter, she proudly said to me,

“Samuel, I like you.”

“I’ll love you with my life and protect you.”

“I’ll give you everything you want.”

Grace kept her promise.

During the years we were together, she never stopped proving it.

I liked stargazing, so she built me an observatory.

I wanted ice cream, and she ran ten blocks to buy it.

In the Whitman family, as long as Grace was there,

I could have almost anything I wanted.

Even if I asked for the moon, she would find a way to get it for me.

We were young then, believing love could overcome anything.

But fate is never that kind.

One person—Zachary—was enough to tear us apart.

Zachary was the son of our nanny, Mary Willis.

He came to help at Whitman's house during his vacation.

He would deliberately break my things, then pretend it was an accident.

He even burned my clothes on purpose and claimed it was a mistake.

Whenever I got angry, he ran to Grace in tears, telling her how miserable his life was.

The one who cries always gets sympathy.

A man who sheds tears seems especially pitiful.

Bit by bit, Grace’s heart leaned toward him.

What truly pushed me over the edge was the night before our engagement.

Grace said she had a surprise for me.

I sneaked home out of curiosity,

only to see Zachary, looking disheveled, walking out of her room.

When he saw me, he didn’t explain.

Instead, he angrily threw my mother’s belongings onto the floor.

“Samuel, stop acting superior in front of me. Everyone knows you’re just living off the Whitman family.”

“As for who will become the future master of the Whitman family, that’s still uncertain!”

I was furious and yelled at him to get out.

But he ran crying to Grace.

He accused me of always bullying him and Mary,

and even said I wanted to destroy their entire family.

Grace, who had once sworn to always stand by my side,

believed him without hesitation.

She stood in front of Zachary, glaring at me.

“Samuel, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Zachary already has it hard enough. Can’t you show some compassion?”

“Don’t forget, we’re not married yet.”

“You have no right to use the Whitman family’s influence to bully others!”

We had a fierce argument, hurling painful words at each other.

Unable to win, I broke up with her in a fit of anger.

Grace threatened me too, saying that if I left, I should never come back.

I threw away all the gifts she had given me.

I moved alone to a villa in the suburbs of my hometown.

Grace blocked my number and refused all contact.

We were young and hot-headed, neither willing to give in first.

The standoff dragged on for a long time.

The truth was, I never truly wanted to break up with her.

I just wanted her to comfort me, to apologize.

Grace is blunt and speaks without thinking.

I knew she didn’t mean to hurt me.

But I couldn’t swallow my pride.

Deep down, I made a promise to myself.

As long as she apologized.

As long as she admitted, she was wrong.

I would forgive everything and prepare for our wedding with her.

I would never make her angry again.

But I waited and waited, and hoped and hoped.