Before taking over the next shift, I receive a huge amount of money from my work buddy, George Rowland. He has given me ten thousand dollars in total, and the remark on the transfer notes that it's the payment for the morning shift I've taken for him.

"Hey Wilbur, I'm going back to my hometown and enjoy my new retired life. Have fun dealing with the night shift at the control room by yourself.

"When I was patrolling the apartment yesterday, I got my hands on treasure that came out of nowhere. Now that I'm rich, I no longer have to deal with the residents anymore."

With a grin, I curse George out for being unusually lucky.

That guy is so stingy that he refuses to even buy himself a bottle of mineral water that's worth two dollars. To think that he actually struck the jackpot this time!

I accept the money happily, thinking that I should take my younger sister out for a nice dinner once I get off work.

Ten minutes later, George sends the clock-off photo of him handing the shift over to me on the work chat as usual. His caption reads, "I've gone through my final shift properly."

The moment I make out the photo, I feel the hairs on my back rising.

"Hello? Is this the police? A murder has taken place in Riverside Residences!"

"Step back, everyone! Open the door!"

Peter Garrett drew his gun from his holster, and two police officers pushed open the metal doors to the walk-in freezer. A wave of biting cold hit them square in their faces.

The freezer unit's compressor continued in a dull, heavy drone. There were no blood stains or dead bodies—only a few boxes of frozen seafood.

"Wilbur Moran, is this the crime scene you spoke of?" Peter questioned in an icy voice.

"He took a photo right here just ten minutes ago!" I replied, pointing at the surveillance camera in the corner.

Peter dialed George Rowland's number, then put his phone on loudspeaker. After two rings, his call went through.

"Is this George Rowland? I am a police officer. Where are you at the moment?"

"I'm on the bus, heading back to my hometown. What's the matter?"

Peter ended the call and grabbed me by the collar. "Would a dead man answer his phone?"

"That wasn't Mr. Roland," I said, enunciating every word.

Peter shoved me aside, ordering, "Come down to the station tomorrow to give your statement!"

The officers left, leaving me in the basement on my own. I tapped into the photo in the group chat. In it, George was showing the peace sign while smiling from ear to ear.

However, he had lost a joint in his right pointer finger, so he usually avoided showing his right hand. However, the right hand in the photograph was not missing a joint.

I zoomed in on the photo as the tips of my fingers ran cold. I caught a vague glimpse of a silhouette on the observation glass on the freezer door in the background. Their face looked white and puffy, and they seemed like they had something over their head.

If George were the only person in the walk-in freezer, who could this silhouette belong to?

A chill ran down my spine. Subconsciously, I looked back. The steel door was shut tight, and the constant hum from the compressor filled the room.

No one else was around, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Right after that, I heard some footsteps from behind me. I spun around, only to see a man in a neat suit step out from the shadows.

He was the property manager, Tom Frost.

He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses upward slightly as a smile played on his lips. "Wilbur, what made you summon the police officers here in the middle of the night?"

"Hello, Mr. Frost," I greeted, putting my phone away immediately. My palms were clammy with cold sweat.

Tom walked right up to me, locking eyes with me the whole time. He did not pay any attention to the freezer.

"According to the officers, you made a false police report," he remarked in a voice so gentle, as if this were just a casual conversation.

I stammered in reply, "I-I-I might have been mistaken."

Tom let out a sigh, extending his arm and patting me on the shoulder. His hand felt cold, and he used an unusual amount of pressure.

"Wilbur, it's about time for your younger sister to take her SATs. I'm sure the tutoring classes cost quite a bit. But don't worry. Just be at ease and keep the ten thousand dollars you received from George."

My head snapped up. I stared straight at him. How did he know about the ten thousand dollars George had wired to me?

The grin on Tom's face widened.

"The moment George wired ten thousand dollars to you, you made a false police report, claiming that he was dead. What in the world were you thinking, Wilbur?" he questioned in an extremely sarcastic voice.

"That wasn't what I did!" I argued loudly.

"Shush." Tom put a finger in front of his lips. "Too much psychological stress can cause one to hallucinate, Wilbur."

He pulled his phone out and clicked "play" on a video file.

"Look. George sent me a video a moment ago, proving that he's safe and well."

The screen showed George seated on a bus, facing the camera. He said, "Mr. Frost, I'm heading back to my hometown to enjoy my retirement. Take good care of that kid, Wilbur, for me, alright?"

In the video, George's expression appeared natural, and his voice sounded familiar.

Yet, just one glance at the video sent a violent chill surging through my chest.

The outfit George had on in the video was identical to the outfit he had on in the photo he shared earlier.

However, this didn't make sense.

Logically speaking, if he had already resigned from his job, he should have returned his security uniform to the company. There was no way he could be wearing that uniform on a bus ride back to his hometown.

In a gentle voice, Tom asked, "Is it all clear to you now?"

I clenched my teeth and forced a strained smile. "Yes, it is, Mr. Frost. I must have been completely out of it after staying up all night."

"Oh, Will. It is a virtue for someone to know their place," Tom remarked. He nodded, looking satisfied.

"Just look at how well your younger sister is doing. She will be able to get into a good college in the future. Sometimes, when one takes a wrong step in life, others get dragged down along with them."

He turned around and headed for the door.

"You may leave now. Remember—it's cold outside. Don't go wandering around," he added.

I followed him out of the basement.

When I returned to the security office on the first floor, my colleagues from the day shift were still around. They stopped chattering the moment they saw me step into the room. They levelled me with strange stares.

The team leader of the security team, Lance Dalton, remarked with a scoff, "That was not cool, Will."

"How could you wish death upon Mr. Rowland when he always looked out for you?"

"Right? Even the authorities have come by to have a look, and they found nothing."

Everyone pointed their fingers at me. Strangely enough, they all seemed to be singing the same song. Everyone believed I was out of my mind.

I sat in a chair in a corner, not saying a word. I shouldn't defend myself. The more I defended myself, the more I'd appear like a madman.

I took my phone out and tapped into the WhatsApp conversation with George. The bank transfer of ten thousand dollars was such an eyesore.

I stared at the words that read, "Easy money." What in the world did George uncover in the basement?

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text message from an unknown number.

It read, "You saw something you shouldn't have seen."

I leapt to my feet and scanned my surroundings. My colleagues in the security room were scrolling on their own phones. None of them paid any attention to me.

Out the window, Tom's car slowly pulled out of the main gates.

It was 2:00 am. Only a soft hum from the equipment could be heard in the security room.

I stared at the wall of surveillance monitors. 64 individual feeds captured every corner of the residential area. The footage from the surveillance camera covering the freezer storage on level B2 was the only one that flickered regularly.

That was where George took the photograph that he sent.

I retrieved the surveillance footage from the last 12 hours. I fast-forwarded and rewinded it, combing through it frame by frame.

George had gone down to the basement at 8:10 pm. At 8:15 pm, he sent that photograph. Then, he walked out of the surveillance blind spot in the basement at 8:20 pm.

Everything looked flawless.

I dragged the scrubber back to 8:15 pm and hit the pause button. I studied the footage intently.

George was walking toward the main door to the walk-in freezer with his back toward the surveillance camera. Something wasn't right with his gait.

He had rheumatism in his left leg, so he dragged his left foot slightly when he walked. However, the person in this footage lifted his left foot and planted it back down with such agility. Nothing seemed wrong with his leg at all.

This wasn't George! It was an imposter wearing George's uniform.

They had already swapped places in the walk-in freezer before 8:10 pm. The real George had not walked out of that place at all!

Instantly, I broke out in goosebumps.

This wasn't a straightforward homicide case. This was someone who was able to find a substitute whose figure seemed so much like George's. Not only were they able to connect to his phone and have a video call so flawlessly, but they also managed to get everyone in the entire company to cover for them.

This was someone powerful enough to execute all that.

Then, there was a click. Suddenly, the door to the security room was pushed open. As quickly as I could, I stopped the playback of the surveillance footage and put the live feed back on the screen.

Tom walked in, carrying an insulated lunchbox. Hadn't he already driven off?

"Will, you haven't had supper yet, have you?" he asked with a smile. He placed the insulated lunchbox on the table.

"Here are some meatballs I just asked the chefs at the cafeteria to prepare. Have them while they're still fresh."

I stared at the insulated lunchbox, not moving a single muscle. As I forced myself to remain calm, I asked, "What made you turn back, Mr. Frost?"

Tom pulled a chair over and sat down next to me. "I was worried about you. You looked like you were really out of it this evening," he answered, scanning the surveillance screens on the wall.

He looked back, fixing his gaze on me.

"Ten thousand dollars is a significant sum of money, Will. While George is generous, you should also be smart about things. Some closed doors aren't meant to be opened; some video recordings should be deleted after they're watched."

Though his words sounded nonchalant, the way he strung them together made my shoulders feel heavy.

He was testing me. He knew I was looking at the surveillance footage!

I acted as if I was guilty, greedy, and terrified. I whisked the insulated lunchbox up and held it in my arms, saying, "I understand, Mr. Frost. I didn't actually see anything. Mr. Rowland has returned to his hometown, and I actually got that ten thousand dollars as a loan from him.

"I will pay it all back to him, little by little."

Tom broke into a satisfied smile when he saw my frazzled reaction.

"That sounds about right. Only the bright ones get to live a long life."

He got to his feet and walked to the door.

"Go on and dig in. The meatballs will turn stale once they get cold."

The door shut behind him. It wasn't until the sound of his footsteps had vanished completely at the far end of the hallway that I let my shoulders drop slightly.

I opened the lunchbox, and indeed, there were meatballs in it. I broke one apart with the cutlery. Its center was still raw, and a deep red liquid flowed out from within.

My stomach churned. This was a warning. I would end up like that meatball if I continued digging into this case. I threw the meatballs into the trash, then grabbed two pieces of tissue and wiped down every finger.

I needed to look for him! I took my phone out. My finger hovered over Peter's number. My call was answered on the first ring.

"Officer Garrett, the reflection in the photog—"

"Will," Peter interjected in a frigid tone. "Mr. Frost has made an official report about you. I've retrieved the surveillance footage and questioned everyone."

He paused, then added in a clear and icy voice, "Every single piece of evidence is putting you at a disadvantage at the moment. Quit rocking the boat."

Then, the line went dead.

I clutched onto my phone, frozen stiff. He had conducted an investigation and questioned "everyone". The verdict was already in before that. I was the "troublemaker".

Not only had they obstructed me, but they had also broken the keys right in my face. I had to head down to the freezer in the basement.

I picked up a flashlight and slipped into the fire exit, avoiding the surveillance cameras in the hallway. The door to the fire exit shut behind me.

The further down I descended, the colder the air felt. The drone of the compressor resonated with the thumping of my chest.

A dead stillness filled level B2. I stood in front of the door to the walk-in freezer and took a deep breath. As I reached out and placed my hand around the door handle, a searing light shone from behind me.

"I gave you a chance, Will. Yet, you didn't take it," said a voice that echoed throughout the basement.

I turned around, blinded by the bright light. Though I couldn't get a good look at the person, I could hear the pounding of my own heart.

I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the blinding light, squinting to look ahead. Tom stood 16 feet away, with four security personnel behind him, each holding a baton in their hands.

"I'm just patrolling the place," I explained, forcing myself to keep a calm tone.

Tom shook his head. "Your condition has become too serious, so much so that you're already showing severe destructive tendencies."

He took his phone out and dialed a number.

"Hi, this is Mr. Frost from Riverside Residences. Yes, it's about that security guard, Will. He's having another episode. He's now attempting to destroy our cold storage facilities. I need you all to get over here."

After ending the call, Tom stared down at me with a condescending gaze.

"Being a public nuisance and destroying public property. Will, this time, not only are you going to be detained, but your sister's guaranteed admission to college might be going down the drain as well."

The four security personnel closed in on me slowly.

In a cold voice, Tom commanded, "Hold him down. Make sure he doesn't thrash around."

If I fought back, I would be labeled as someone with violent tendencies. If I did not resist, I would be apprehended.

Either way, Tom would win. Nevertheless, this was not the time to take him head-on. I clenched my teeth, not moving a single muscle. I allowed them to twist my arm as they pinned me against the wall.

A few minutes later, police sirens rang out.

Peter and two police officers hurried toward us. When he saw me being pinned to the wall, his brows furrowed. He roared, "What the hell are you trying to do, Will?"

Tom went up to him and offered him a cigarette.

"Sorry to trouble you with making another trip here, Officer Garrett. This guy has lost his marbles. I'd suggest taking him to a mental hospital right away."

"I happened to be working on a case nearby when I received your report. So, I decided to just come by and have a look since it was on the way."

Instead of accepting the cigarette from Tom, Peter stared coldly at me as he ordered, "Handcuff him and take him away."

The handcuffs clicked shut around my wrists.

Tom walked up to me and lowered his voice. "I hope your stay in there helps with clearing your head."

The smirk on his face expressed pure triumph. As I stared at him, I let out a laugh without warning. The sound of my laughter was especially jarring in this basement.

Everyone was stunned.

"What are you laughing at?" Tom asked, furrowing his brows.

I ignored him and turned toward Peter instead. "Officer Garrett, sure—you can detain me. However, before we leave, could you take another look at that photograph?"

"What else are you trying to do?" Peter questioned, frowning impatiently.

"Just have a quick look at the photograph."

I looked into his eyes and continued, "Look at the glass on the door in the background."

After a moment of hesitation, Peter pulled his phone out and brought the image up. He zoomed in and fixed his eyes on the background.

He zoomed in. Then, he zoomed in even closer still. The impatience on his face vanished, replaced by an expression of genuine shock.

He widened his eyes, holding his breath for a second.

"Officer Garrett?"

Upon sensing something amiss, Tom leaned in to have a look.

"Stay right there!" Peter shouted, grabbing Tom by his wrist.

The two police officers advanced at the same time, subduing the four security guards.

"Hands on your heads, everyone! Get down!"

Then, Peter looked back at the officers behind him to give his command. "Lock this place down right now and call for backup."