The Face Behind the Mirror

 

It had been an unusually quiet week for Zane Faulkner — no murders, no codes, no cryptic messages left in blood. Just silence. Boredom had started gnawing at his nerves.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Eli muttered, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

“It’s called living, Eli,” Zane replied with a sly grin. “Normal people dine in seven-star hotels without stumbling over corpses, you know.”

Eli scoffed. “Not when you’re around.”

They had come to the Grand Royale, the city’s only seven-star hotel, just for dinner. No case, no mystery — just the thrill of opulence and a temporary escape from their relentless work.

But fate had other plans.

The Fall :

They had barely taken their seats when a scream sliced through the air. Diners rushed to the giant glass windows overlooking the main courtyard. Zane’s eyes were already narrowed, calculating.

Then it happened.

A girl — no older than 25 — fell from the 4th floor balcony. She hit the ground with a sickening crunch, sprawled in front of the marble fountain like a broken doll.

Zane was already out of his seat.

He knelt beside her just as she gasped her final breath. Her lips trembled.

“Tell... Alen... I said... no.”

And then... silence.

The Investigation Begins :

The management quickly tried to call it an “accident,” but Zane’s glare silenced every PR-trained mouth in the room.

“We’ll be staying here tonight,” he told the hotel director calmly. “And I expect access to the entire 4th floor.”

“But sir—”

Zane’s hand waved casually. “Don’t worry. I’ll be billing you.”

Within an hour, the 4th floor was sealed. Out of 100 rooms, 10 were flagged as suspicious — their occupants either had no alibi, acted nervous, or had somehow interacted with the victim.

Zane interviewed them all — a shady businessman, a nervous honeymooner, an art dealer with a fake accent, and more.

Each had their oddities. Each could be the killer.

Even Eli whispered, “That businessman... I bet it’s him. Look at that cigar. Murder vibes.”

Zane didn’t reply. He just smiled faintly. Because none of them fit.

Not yet.

Marcus the Menace :

Among the hotel guests was a man named Marcus — loud, bitter, and strangely obsessed with Zane. He mocked Zane’s fame, his methods, even his coat.

“You’re just a walking coat hanger with an ego,” Marcus snapped during dinner.

Zane chuckled, elegantly slicing his steak. “And you’re a walking ego with no coat. We make quite a pair.”

Marcus flushed red. “You think you’re better than everyone?”

“No,” Zane leaned in. “I know.”

Lyra, who had joined them shortly after the incident, stepped in. “Watch your tone, Marcus.”

He rolled his eyes, but the warning was clear. Lyra wasn’t amused.

A Twisted Clue :

Later that night, Zane handed Lyra a tiny perfume bottle found shattered near the girl’s body.

“Get this analyzed,” he said. “Three separate tests. Molecular breakdown. I want to know if this scent exists anywhere in the hotel’s product line.”

“On it,” she replied, already powering up her portable lab.

The results? Fascinating.

The perfume was custom-made.

Its base chemical compound matched a scent used exclusively in one private suite.

The suite wasn’t registered under any known name.

The Hidden Room :

Eli and Zane confronted the hotel manager.

“This suite,” Zane pointed at the floor plan, “Room 417-B. It’s not on the guest registry.”

The manager hesitated. “That... That’s reserved for Mr. Graves.”

“Who’s that?”

“The hotel’s founder. He lives here sometimes... but under high security. Very private man.”

“Does he go by any other name?” Zane asked quietly.

The man flinched. “Some staff whisper... Alen. But that’s... just an internal code name. He doesn’t exist publicly.”

Eli turned pale. “So you’re saying... Alen isn’t on any paperwork?”

“Not officially,” the manager admitted. “But everyone here knows not to ask.”

A Face in the Mirror :

Zane stood in the mysterious suite later that night — luxurious, decadent, and wrong. Something about it felt off.

He stared into the large gold-framed mirror, thoughtful.

Then he saw it — a faint smudge.

He touched the glass. Double-sided.

“It’s a one-way mirror,” Zane said.

Behind it was a hidden passage with viewing slots into several guest rooms. Surveillance equipment. Audio taps.

And in the corner — a disguise kit. Wigs, suits, glasses.

Alen didn’t just live in this hotel.

He played in it.

He disguised himself as a guest regularly, changing faces, names, accents — a ghost among his own clients.

The girl had figured it out. That’s why she was killed.

The Final Blow :

Zane gathered the top suspects in the grand ballroom the next day — including Marcus, Lyra, and the hotel staff.

He laid the perfume bottle on the table.

“This,” he said, “was found near the victim. It’s rare. And its chemical signature was traced to one room only.”

He turned to Marcus. “Your room.”

Marcus staggered. “W-what? That’s absurd!”

“Yes,” Zane agreed. “It is. Because the bottle wasn’t placed there by the killer. It was placed there... by me.”

Gasps.

“I needed to see how he would react,” Zane gestured behind them.

From the shadows emerged Mr. Graves — the elusive hotel owner.

“But that’s—” the manager began.

Zane raised a hand. “Not Graves. Not his real name. His real name is Alen. The girl said it with her last breath.”

“But—how?” Eli whispered.

Zane smiled. “Double identity. The man runs this place but walks these halls in disguise. He found pleasure in pretending to be his own guest. Until one girl said no.”

The Beating & the Laughter :

Before Alen could speak, Marcus — the loudmouth — lunged at Zane.

Big mistake.

Zane casually sidestepped and sent him crashing into a chair with a swift, playful slap to the back of the head.

“Oops,” Zane smiled. “Was that your pride?”

Eli froze. Lyra burst into laughter.

Marcus didn’t get up for a long while.

The Ending :

Lyra’s final analysis confirmed DNA traces from the disguise kit matched Alen. The hotel owner was arrested under a false name.

The mirror room was shut. CCTV systems were restored. And the hotel — once glorious — fell into infamy.

Later, as they boarded their train home, Eli asked, “Do we ever get a normal vacation?”

Zane looked out the window and smirked. “Define ‘normal.’”

Lyra, sitting across, looked at Zane for a long second.

She smiled, softly.

He didn’t notice.

Or maybe... he chose not to.

[End]