Ryan sat in front of the computer with his left hand still bandaged.
The pain had decreased considerably over the past few days, but it was still there. Every now and then, a sharp sting traveled through his fingers and up his arm.
Still, he could work.
And that was enough.
He turned on the computer and waited for the system to finish loading.
When the desktop appeared, he immediately opened the Nexum administration panel.
Ryan took a deep breath.
He had spent too much time thinking about what he wanted to build.
Now it was time to make it a reality.
—Time to really move forward.
For the next several hours, he got to work.
First, he reorganized the platform's categories.
Programming.
Design.
Writing.
Translation.
Editing.
Ryan reviewed each section, removed unnecessary categories, and reorganized the navigation so users could find projects more easily.
—Much better.
Then he moved on to the rating system.
It was simple.
Far too simple compared to what he envisioned for the future.
But it worked.
Five stars.
A space for short comments.
A rating for the client and another for the freelancer.
Ryan ran several tests.
He created test users.
Posted fake projects.
Accepted offers.
Left ratings.
Then checked everything again.
—It works.
He saved the changes.
Then he started working on the public profiles.
Now every freelancer could write a short description about themselves and display some of their previous work.
Ryan looked at the test page.
It was still basic.
But it had potential.
—Portfolios…
He typed a few more lines.
—That could grow into something much bigger.
Finally, he reached the last feature.
Featured Projects.
The idea was simple.
Some projects could appear in a special section to receive more visibility.
Ryan stared at the screen for several seconds.
It was a small feature.
But it could become something much bigger.
Over time, there could be different levels of exposure.
Advertising.
Promotions.
Even companies paying to have their projects featured.
Ryan smiled.
—We'll leave that for later.
He saved everything.
The screen refreshed.
Ryan went through the platform once more.
The categories were organized.
The profiles worked.
The ratings were active.
The featured projects appeared correctly.
Nexum no longer looked like a clumsy experiment.
It was still small.
It still had a lot to improve.
But now it looked like a real platform.
Ryan leaned back in his chair.
He stared at the screen for several seconds.
A small smile appeared on his face.
—This…
His eyes slowly moved across the page.
—Is the beginning.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
His empire was still tiny.
He couldn't even call it an empire yet.
But for the first time, he felt like it had taken shape.
It had a foundation.
And that was enough.
Ryan opened his eyes.
—Now I just need to make it grow.
---
Meanwhile, somewhere else…
Vivian was sitting at her desk.
The lamp illuminated only part of the room.
Several old newspaper clippings and some printed pages she had obtained from the school library were spread across the table.
There was also an open notebook.
Vivian held a pen between her fingers.
For several seconds, she stared at the blank page.
Then she began to write.
Abandoned Warehouse Case.
Below it, she added a few details.
Tairon's gang.
All dead.
Clown symbol made with blood on the wall.
Vivian stopped.
She stared at the sentence for several seconds.
Then she turned the page.
Forest Fire.
Human skin remains.
Clown symbol found again.
Another pause.
Vivian picked up one of the clippings.
The information was incomplete.
Witnesses claiming they had seen something.
People who had heard strange noises.
Stories that nobody seemed to take too seriously.
But the symbol kept appearing.
Vivian wrote another line.
This doesn't seem like a coincidence.
She turned another page.
This time she wrote:
Ana's Case.
Four men entered her house to kidnap her.
All four died.
Witnesses mentioned balloons.
A man dressed as a clown.
Vivian placed the pen down on the desk.
She took a deep breath.
Then she picked up another sheet.
Her own story.
The night of the game.
Kidnapping alongside Madeleine.
The hunt through the forest.
Men who transformed.
Her hand stopped.
The next name was written in larger letters.
The Clown.
Vivian stared at those words.
She remembered that night perfectly.
He had appeared out of nowhere.
He had killed everyone.
Then he had soaked them with water from a flower.
And finally, he had disappeared.
Without explaining anything.
Without saying who he was.
Without leaving them a clear clue.
Vivian slowly wrote:
Appears when someone is about to die.
Below it:
Leaves symbols.
And finally:
Disappears without leaving clear traces.
Vivian leaned back in her chair.
She looked at all the pages she had written.
There were too many coincidences.
Far too many to ignore.
But something was still missing.
A connection.
Something that linked all the cases together.
—There has to be something…
Vivian went through the clippings again.
One by one.
Dates.
Locations.
Names.
People involved.
Nothing.
Until she noticed something strange.
A small photograph from one of the cases.
Vivian held it closer to the lamp.
In the corner of the image was something.
A balloon.
Small.
Almost hidden behind a window.
Vivian frowned.
—Was that there…?
She searched through another clipping.
Then another.
And another.
In two of them, the exact same detail appeared.
A balloon.
Not always red.
But always there.
Vivian picked up the pen.
She wrote:
Balloons.
She circled the word.
Then drew a line connecting it to the name.
Clown.
She stared at it.
For the first time, she had something she could follow.
It wasn't an answer.
It wasn't even proof.
But it was a beginning.
Vivian placed the pen back on the table.
—Who are you, really…?
The room remained silent.
Of course, she received no answer.
Only the distant sound of a car passing down the street.
---
Later…
Vivian looked at the clock again.
It was late.
Far too late.
She closed the notebook and placed the clippings inside a folder.
Then she hid everything inside her desk drawer.
She didn't want anyone else to find them.
Especially the other girls.
She still didn't know what she was looking for.
And she didn't know what could happen if the Clown discovered that she was investigating him.
Vivian turned off the lamp.
The room went dark.
She took off her shoes and climbed into bed.
She settled onto her side.
Her red hair spread across the pillow beneath the faint moonlight coming through the window.
She closed her green eyes.
For a moment, her mind returned to the notes.
The names.
The dates.
The balloons.
The symbols.
The laughter she had heard that night.
And the question that refused to leave her mind.
Who was the Clown, really?
Vivian breathed slowly.
Exhaustion began to take over.
Little by little, her thoughts became slower.
Finally, she fell asleep.
The room became completely silent.
On the desk, inside the closed drawer…
The notebook remained hidden.
And on one of its final pages, surrounded by several circles and notes, there was a single word:
Clown.
The mystery had only just begun.