They stopped at a small village by the side of the ocean, where the scent of saltwater mixed with the faint aroma of grilled seafood. The village was peaceful, its quiet streets lined with small shops and cafés under the shade of palm trees.
Despite the beauty of the place, Etienne couldn't relax. His mind was caught in the storm of thoughts swirling around the horrifying pictures Charles showed him.
God, this place is perfect… for a murder scene. After he end my life he will throw me to the ocean. Body is gone, he's clear to go.
"Mr. Bellamy,"
Etienne rolled his eyes as Charles's voice crackled through the earpiece.
"Ask Byron about the clients who hired him for the Ranggolan people."
This is such a pain in the ass! Etienne thought. Charles's method of questioning Byron felt like an interrogation—too stiff, too unnatural. If he asked something like that out of the blue, Byron would definitely get suspicious. This detective must have been single throughout his life and has no friends to hang out with on the weekend!
As they sat in a small bamboo hut, waiting for their food to arrive, Byron let out a big yawn after ordering a glass of espresso.
He seriously drank espresso? He hasn't slept yet! Is he trying to kill himself?!
Etienne immediately stopped him. "Hold it right there. Cancel that espresso—he needs to rest!"
Byron raised an eyebrow, and the waitress looked at him, confused. Etienne was shocked at himself for the outburst. He immediately regretted it. Wouldn't it be better if the killer just overdosed on caffeine?
"I'll just order water. Just water," Byron corrected his order.
"You really care about him, don't you?" Detective Baxter's voice slipped in as the waitress walked away to deliver the order to the kitchen.
Etienne couldn't find a way to respond to Charles without making Byron suspicious of the spying device planted in his tooth. So, he stayed quiet.
"Wait until he corners you in some isolated place and slits your throat. You won't even have the chance to say 'Calico' for us to come save you," Charles's voice was filled with hatred and scorn. But as much as Etienne hated to admit it, the warning was right. He needed to stop caring.
The two men found themselves alone, the warm ocean breeze drifting through the bamboo hut. Neither of them wanted to say anything. Byron tried to smile at Etienne, hoping to start a conversation, but Etienne avoided his gaze.
Maybe he still trying to accept this new lifestyle, life on the run is not easy, Byron thought to himself.
"I really need new clothes..." Etienne muttered, looking sadly at his black gown. He couldn't help but worry about how he smelled. A disaster for an attractive, hot actor like him. If a journalist found him like this, it would be a catastrophe for his reputation. Completely ridiculous!
"I still have a shirt I bought from the mini-market," Byron offered, pulling out a plain white T-shirt from behind his back. He had been tucking it there since he didn't have a bag or rucksack.
Etienne stared at it, unimpressed. "Byron, seriously… that shirt looks more boring than a detecti—" He stopped himself mid-sentence, quickly correcting, before he mentioned Charles Baxter, "Detective Cougar… I mean… the cartoon. You know?"
Byron raised an eyebrow. "It's a good cartoon. You find it boring?"
"Yeah, it's boring. Always the same cases, same motives..." Etienne lied effortlessly.
Just like serial killers. Same cases, same motives. Same victims, same method of making bodies disappear.
"Agreed," Byron nodded, then shifted, sliding his body down onto the bamboo floor of the hut. The small space felt almost like a stage, sheltered under a straw roof that swayed gently with the ocean breeze. It was the perfect place to rest—peaceful and quiet.
His head landed just inches from Etienne's hip. Etienne's perfume was fading, but the lingering scent reminded Byron of the night before, when they were as close as skin to skin. It was unlike anything he'd experienced before; this wasn't the first time he'd been intimate with someone, but he loved how Etienne clung to him, as if they were two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.
Byron stretched out his hand, an unspoken invitation for Etienne to lie down as well and cuddle.
Etienne caught the gesture but kept his posture rigid. Oh no! Don't expect me to cuddle with you, murderer! I'd do anything to avoid being near you. Why did you even invite me to cuddle?!
In his earpiece, Charles's voice rammed into his ear, filled with irritation as he nagged at Etienne like an angry mother for even mentioning detectives in the conversation. His warning was clear: "Stay focused. Don't bring me into this."
Etienne sighed, running his fingers through his messy golden-dyed hair—the color he had chosen to match the dress he was wearing.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion. Sleep deprivation had a way of loosening tongues, making people more honest, more vulnerable.
Perfect time to dig out information from Byron.
"Ask him about Ranggolan, quick!" Charles snapped, finally cutting to the chase.
"So, tell me about Ranggolan. What do you know about it, and why did you risk getting into a fight with Gion for them?"
Byron releases a small smile forming as he reminisced. "When I first arrived on this planet, my ship crashed near Ranggolan. The people there took me in, saved me from the fire, healed me, fed me—and they asked for nothing in return."
"Oh, sweet people," Etienne said, forcing his expression to brighten, even though he was still haunted by the horrific, gruesome photos Charles had shown him. No matter how hard he tried, the images of Byron's supposed victims clung to his mind like a curse. He knew he wouldn't be able to shake them off for at least a week.
Oh, God, please! Don't let me be one of them!
"Yeah, sweet people," Byron nodded. "At first, my plan was just to fix my ship and leave, head back to my original destination. But then the accident happened. One of the victims was the man who saved my life—his name was Kabal. He left behind a wife and three children, and the mining company refused to compensate them. So I thought, they had to pay the victim's family, whether they liked it or not."
"Yeah, I agree with you. Every life is significant, no matter who they are. That's why murderers are scary as hell. How can someone play God, thinking they have the right to end another person's life?" Etienne said, his tone half-sarcastic.
Byron, however, responded, "Talking about murder and killing people... think about it. If someone is trying to kill a thousand people, and we take his life, isn't that saving people?"
Etienne stayed quiet. He was too afraid to argue with Byron. If he said the wrong thing, Byron might snap and kill him on the spot.
"It's the same with not eating meat; if someone refuses to eat meat because animals feel pain, don't plants also feel pain when they're cut from their roots? If we stop eating altogether, aren't we killing ourselves and becoming murderers too?" Byron continued.
Please, just... shut up! Etienne groaned internally. Tomorrow, you'll probably argue with your next victim about how killing me is a good idea because it'll give you peace of mind or because you're 'releasing me from suffering.'
But his expression must have shown his discomfort because Byron went quiet, sensing that Etienne wasn't interested in the conversation.
"Ask him about his past adventures before reaching Sulu," Charles's voice interrupted again through the earpiece.
Before Etienne could respond, their food finally arrived, the rich aroma of freshly grilled seafood filling the small bamboo hut.
My last dinner!! at least they are delicious!
"So, what did you do before you arrived here in Sulu? I thought you were a native," Etienne asked, helping the waiter place the dishes on the small wooden table between them.
Since they were eating in a bamboo hut, there were no chairs. Instead, they both sat cross-legged on a raised bamboo platform, with the low table set between them, covered in steaming plates of fish, shrimp, and fragrant rice.
Byron leaned back slightly, stretching his arms before beginning his story. "I came from a galaxy far, far away…"
Yeah? And what's the mileage on your kill count?
"Uh-huh, what did you do?" Etienne asked, though he felt a slight tension tightening in his chest.
Those horrific images returned to his mind—the gruesome pictures Charles had shown him. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to confront Byron. Why did you kill those people? Was it fun for you? Do you enjoy having the power to take someone else's life?
But he held it back. It had to feel natural. If Byron got suspicious, it could cost Etienne his life.
"Just automotive business," Byron answered shortly.
And killing people as a hobby? Just say it! Etienne swallowed those words, instead keeping a polite smile on his face.
"Is that why you have so much money?" He leaned forward slightly, tilting his head. "How about a lover? Do you have one?"
Byron shook his head. "Never in my life have I wanted something serious. I'd hook up with women, and apparently, after I left the planet, she claimed she was pregnant."
So Detective Baxter was right.
Shit. Etienne screamed in disappointment—internally, of course. He had been hoping, praying, that Charles was wrong about everything he said about Byron.
"But because of that, the first person I actually tried to have a serious relationship with... couldn't take it. He saw it as infidelity, and so… we broke up." Byron's face soured slightly, his usual confidence dimming for a brief moment.
Etienne kept his expression neutral, but his mind reeled. Oh God, is that how it starts? The heartbreak? The trigger that led to all those murders? Oh no, I am NOT about to be the next story in your sob-induced slaughter spree. Maybe I need to pretend that I'm attracted to him, so he doesn't kill me.
"Did she die?" Etienne asked, then immediately regretted it, worried that the question might trigger Byron. I need to control my spontaneous outbursts!
"No, he's still alive," Byron smirked as he took a bite of shrimp covered in hot sauce.
"He? So you were in a serious relationship with a man but hooked up with women?" Etienne raised his eyebrows, his curiosity genuine with no trace of sarcasm.
"Yeah. Basically, I wasn't into love games. To me, it's complicated and a waste of time. Women are so tricky when it comes to relationships. They test a lot, and I have to prove myself by showing how much I make. Every woman I met only cared about my yearly income. If the job was weird, they disliked it, but if I made a lot of money, they loved it. No integrity. I don't like that," Byron shook his head.
"So what made him different? What made you think you could be serious about a relationship this time?" Etienne was still curious about who "he" was.
"You know those movies that tell stories about enemies turned lovers? This is exactly that," Byron flashed a comedic smile. "We've been in this cat-and-mouse game for a decade. And if you get it, yes, he is a cop who was trying to catch me."
"For real?" Etienne genuinely found this intriguing.
Byron continued the story, "Every encounter ends with something sexual, and most of the time, in bed. I mean, he seriously tries to catch me, but I always manage to bend him down and force him into something sexual. He tries to reject me, but I can tell he actually enjoys it."
"Mr. Bellamy, ask Byron about how he became a criminal. Let's stop wasting time," Detective Baxter's voice interrupted through the microphone attached to Etienne's right earring. But Etienne is carving into something to laugh at, he was too depressed he need something to make him happy no matter what! Besides, Byron never land his hand on him in a way that it's hurting him so far.
"Why does that sound like harassment? It seems like he truly enjoys being harassed..." Etienne laughed, covering his mouth while chewing his food.
"You're not wrong, actually. He really loves it when I pin him down in any vulnerable position—" Now that he finally got Etienne to laugh and his soft, loving eyes were back, Byron wouldn't stop the story. He kept it going.
Etienne moved his shoulder with flirty eyes, looking at Byron. "Hmm... you need to show me with action what kind of vulnerable position it is..."
Suddenly, Detective Baxter intervened, "Tell him to stop talking, Mr. Bellamy. Ask him why he agreed to steal the watch!!!"
"Then you'll need to wear clothes you don't like because this involves ripping clothes off. I swear he LOVES it!" Byron added, his story blending with laughter.
"Can you just give me an example?!" Etienne demanded impatiently.
Byron then placed his fingers on Etienne's neck. They both fell silent. Etienne's eyes locked on Byron's, and that grip on his neck definitely made him feel dominated. But more than that, Etienne could feel that the grip wasn't meant to harm him—it was a gentle touch.
Then Byron leaned in and kissed Etienne's lips.
As always, he was a great kisser. All of a sudden, everything Charles had told him was forgotten, and Etienne let himself melt into the kiss.
Byron slowly pulled away. "That's one example. He loves it when I choke him, just like a kitten being bitten on the nape by its mother."
"Tell him to stop talking, Mr. Bellamy. Ask him why he agreed to steal the watch," Charles intervened, but Etienne deliberately showed interest in Byron's story, encouraging him to share more.
"Byron, he really loves to get dominated, doesn't he? I can imagine after you left him, he'd call you a sexual harasse—" Etienne stopped himself. Wait a minute!
A realization dawned on Etienne. Detective Baxter mentioned that Byron is a sexual harasser... What if it was him? And what if it only happened to him?
Besides, a decade? Isn't that how long Baxter's been trying to catch Byron? Cat and mouse games? Oh, I see now! So that's what happened! It looks like someone is feeling bitter about a breakup and is now trying to get in the way of his ex finding a new boyfriend to replace him!
Detective Baxter, I'm going to get you later! How dare you trick me!
"He did call it sexual harassment, and he threatened to lock me up for it if I dared to leave him. I don't care, though..." Byron shook his head, still amused by the story.
"QUICK!! ASK HIM WHY HE AGREED TO STEAL THE WATCH!" Charles's voice shouted in Etienne's ear, so loudly that Byron swore he heard something.
"What was that?" Byron looked around.
"What? The waves?" Etienne looked behind him, toward the ocean.
"I swear I heard something," Byron furrowed his brows, focusing on his hearing.
"This is why I told you to stop drinking espresso! You need to rest before you hallucinate something and end up killing me in the process!" Etienne nagged.
"Yeah, you're right," Byron agreed, grabbing his mineral water and taking a sip. They continued their conversation. "What about you?"
Etienne smirked, biting into a shrimp. Suddenly, everything made sense. To him, Byron didn't feel like a sexual offender at all! Now he understood why Charles called him a sexual harasser—it was just part of their little naughty games.
Suddenly, Etienne's fear washed away, and he could act normally around Byron. "Well, let's just say I've had quite an adventure when it comes to love. But if I told you all about my adventures," he continued, his voice playful, "I'm afraid you might get jealous and decide to end my life… I don't want to end up as a rotten body in the bushes."
Byron's expression shifted. His gaze drifted toward the distant horizon, where the sky met the ocean. A shadow passed over his face.
"What's wrong? You look depressed all of a sudden," Etienne asked, aware that when someone is tired and sleep-deprived, their brain functions similarly to being under the influence of alcohol, making them more honest than usual.
"There was this one woman, though…"
His eyes remained fixed on the water.
"...She was murdered by a drug dealer."
Guilt flashed across Byron's face, stopping him from elaborating further. Instead, he focused on his meal, eating in silence as if trying to refill his energy.
Watching him, Etienne hesitated.
Judging by Byron's expression, by that brief, flickering emotion—was it sadness? Regret?—he was tempted to think that maybe Detective Baxter was wrong.
Maybe that woman wasn't killed by Byron… but killed because of him.
"She was killed?" Etienne asked carefully.
Byron nodded. "She was a prostitute I hooked up with. She was a really great friend, so I often come back to her. And because of that, she became a target of a gang of drug dealers. They asked her where I was. She didn't tell them anything because ..... she didn't know."
Byron stopped eating, his face filled with guilt that he couldn't hide behind his usual stoic expression.
"I didn't know they were after her. I told her, 'You'll be fine,' when she asked for protection. How foolish....." Byron then looked at Etienne, his eyes red—whether from exhaustion or sadness, Etienne couldn't tell. "I'll never let it happen again. I'll protect you. No matter what."
"Mr. Bellamy," Charles's voice cut through the quiet. "He's lying. Not everything he says is true. He's just trying to lower your guard. Be careful. He is a mass murderer, remember that! First, he will try to win your sympathy, and then he strike when you put your guard down! That's how murderers get their victim's trust!"