The sun outside was too bright for the panic in Natalie’s chest.

  She sprinted through the dorm hallway, her footsteps pounding against the linoleum, breath ragged, bag slamming against her hip. Hannah ran behind her, holding tightly onto her hand to keep up.

  “Natalie— Natalie, slow down!” Hannah gasped, nearly dragged off her feet. “Where did Kuroda go? Why are we—I don’t understand—”

  But Natalie wasn’t listening.

  She turned sharply at the corner, slid a little on the floor, and crashed into the door of a dorm, Marcin Wojcik's.

  Her fist slammed against the wood.

  “Marcin! Open! Please, hurry!”

  Her chest heaved violently as she braced both palms on her knees, catching her breath. Sweat clung to her hairline.

  The doorknob clicked.

  Marcin opened the door halfway, blinking at the sight of her, wild-eyed, panting, desperate.

  “Whoa—hey—hey,” he said, hands lifting slightly in alarm. “Calm down, settle down. What’s going on?”

  Natalie slowly raised her head.

  Recognition hit him.

  “Oh,” Marcin murmured. “You’re… Tina’s friend.”

  Natalie nodded once, sharply, like her neck muscles were pulled tight.

  Her voice cracked on the first word.

  “Where is Casimir?”

  Before Marcin could answer—

  “Natalie?”

  Tina appeared behind her, running over from down the hall, eyes widening. She’d been walking back from class and must’ve heard the commotion.

  Natalie spun around, breath shaking.

  “Where—?” she began, voice raw.

  Tina shook her head once.

  “Casimir? He left.”

  The words felt like a blade dragged slowly across Natalie’s ribs.

  Natalie swallowed hard. “Left… where?”

  “He moved out right after the philosophy talk incident,” Tina explained softly. “He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t even pick up his last assignment. I checked with the dorm staff. His room is empty.”

  “No… no, he wouldn’t just…” Natalie whispered.

  But there was no Casimir here.

  No trace.

  Nothing.

  Natalie forced in a shaky breath.

  “Where’s Dr. Kazou Kuroda?” she asked suddenly. “I’ve been looking for him for weeks. Until I saw on the news this morning, while Hannah and I ate breakfast at the cafe! On the news, they said he's no longer in Wroclaw!"

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  Tina and Marcin exchanged a look, one that made Natalie’s stomach twist.

  Tina’s expression darkened. She slowly turned toward Marcin, silently urging him.

  Marcin hesitated. His jaw tightened.

  Then—

  “He’s in Amsterdam.”

  Tina inhaled sharply, hand flying over her mouth. “Amsterdam? Why—why would he—”

  Marcin turned, grabbed his backpack from inside his room, and set it on the floor. He dug through papers aggressively, hands trembling.

  “He asked me about Casimir,” Marcin said, voice low. “And his last name — Kuroda — it reminded me of what Tina and I studied.”

  Tina nodded faintly. Intrigued.

  “It was just a side project,” she whispered. “Extra credit. I thought it was interesting—”

  Marcin finally pulled out a folder, old, edges frayed, filled with highlighted passages, printed scans, sketches. He handed it to Natalie.

  She stared at it, then slowly opened it.

  Four words hit her like a punch to the sternum:

  Dr. Yuichi Kuroda.

  Her breath stuttered.

  Pages were filled with research notes, maps, old institutes in Japan and Europe, clinical writings, fragments of testimony from survivors, ethical warnings, and missing reports. All owned by Dr. Yuichi Kuroda.

  And then one page—

  The word Amsterdam circled in violent red ink.

  Hannah hovered behind her.

  “Amsterdam?” she repeated. “He shares the same name as our Kuroda…”

  Natalie’s hands began to shake.

  Something inside her snapped.

  Her fingers curled into her hair, clutching both sides of her head as she dropped to her knees, eyes bewildered. Papers were scattered across the dorm hallway tile.

  Hannah gasped. “Natalie!”

  Tina knelt beside her.

  “Hey—hey—breathe, okay? It’s okay—just breathe—”

  Natalie lifted her face.

  Her eyes were wide, glassy, ringed with dark exhaustion. But she forced a trembling smile.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”

  She wasn’t.

  Hannah picked up the pages and frowned at the writing.

  “Are you sure Kuroda went to Amsterdam?”

  Marcin nodded stiffly.

  “Positive. And…” His voice cracked. He squeezed his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  Hannah and Tina turned their gaze toward him.

  “Why ‘sorry’?” Hannah asked.

  Marcin’s eyes glistened.

  “A detective came by,” he whispered. “She asked about Kazou Kuroda. She said he’s… they think he’s a serial killer.”

  Natalie’s head snapped up.

  “What?” Tina breathed.

  Marcin swallowed.

  “They said he’s connected to Anna’s death.”

  Natalie exploded.

  “No! That’s wrong!” she shouted, voice breaking. “Wrong—wrong—he didn’t—he wouldn’t—he did NOTHING!”

  Tina flinched.

  Natalie’s voice fell to a shaking whisper.

  “It was… Casimir.”

  Marcin wiped his eyes.

  “Natalie, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s true anymore. But if Kazou really did go to Amsterdam…” He looked at the floor, voice barely audible. “He’s in danger. The police are going there next.”

  Natalie stood abruptly.

  She grabbed her purse strap, holding it against her chest like armor.

  “I’m going,” she said. Her voice steadied into steel. “I have to save him. If he gets arrested, he won't be able to come back from it! He'll be in prison or worse!"

  She turned to Marcin.

  “And I need this.”

  Marcin nodded.

  Hannah stuffed the folder into Natalie’s purse.

  Natalie took Hannah’s hand again, tears running down her cheeks — not slow, not dramatic — but real, quiet, determined.

  She smiled at them.

  “Thank you. For everything. And I'm sorry for your loss. I will get Anna justice."

  Tina squeezed her shoulder. Marcin nodded faintly.

  Natalie and Hannah ran down the hall. Their footsteps echoed until they disappeared.

  Marcin and Tina watched from the doorway, worry carved into their faces.

  After a long silence, Tina whispered:

  “Casimir was the killer. I know it. He’s behind all of it. That’s why he left — he didn’t want to be caught.”

  Marcin swallowed hard.

  “Maybe if we tell the staff… if we report it… they’ll do something.”

  “Let’s go,” Tina said firmly. “Now.”

  They hurried downstairs to the dorm reception.

  The manager was an older woman with glasses and neatly tied hair. She looked up from her computer.

  “How can I help you two?”

  Marcin stepped forward, voice wavering.

  “Do you remember Casimir Bielska?”

  Tina leaned in sharply.

  “He isn’t who he appeared to be,” she said.

  Marcin’s voice broke.

  “He did something to Anna Smirnov!”

  Tina and Marcin began talking over each other, frantic, voices rising.

  “Please—settle down,” the manager interrupted, raising a hand. “Explain one at a time.”

  They went quiet.

  Tina tried again, louder:

  “Casimir Bielska. The handsome blonde student? Everyone loved him. You knew him well.”

  The manager blinked.

  Tilted her head.

  Confused.

  “Who,” she asked slowly, “is Casimir Bielska?”

  Silence.

  The air in the room turned dense. Cold.

  Marcin and Tina stared at her, utterly horrified.