The person who cannot be caught.

There was someone I wanted to catch for a long time.

Someone who felt within reach if I just stretched out my hand, yet always stood exactly one step ahead.

By the time evidence was found, he had already slipped away, and when we moved in for the arrest, the place was empty.

As if he had never existed from the start.

At first, I thought it was simple luck. That the timing was just slightly off.

But once, twice, three times. As the same pattern repeated, I realized.

This is no coincidence.

He knew.

When I move, how I investigate, and even how deep I've dug.

He was always first.

The crime scenes were always clean.

Only incomplete clues were left behind. Traces that weren't too blatant, yet weren't completely hidden either.

As if someone had left them there on purpose.

“Come this far.”

It felt like he was saying that.

And every time, I followed that temptation.

After that day, I was certain.

I am not chasing him.

I am merely following the path he created, long after the fact.

Will I ever be able to catch him?

Or—

Will the day he stops come first?

Or,

the day I end up standing in the same place as him.

One thing was certain.

This is no longer an investigation.

It is a hunt.

And he,

even now, from somewhere, must be watching me.