The Devil's Favourite Obsession

Once Cixi finally unlocked the door to her small apartment, she dropped her bag on the narrow counter and immediately pulled out her phone. She did not bother turning on the main lights. Instead, she scrolled straight to a specific contact and hit dial.

Officer Bill.

He was the detective who had forced Nelson to scrub the deepfake video from her life. In the six agonising months since Cassian’s disappearance, they had surprisingly kept in touch. She had even taken the risk of repeatedly asking him to look into Cassian’s vanishing.

Cassian was no one to me, Cixi thought, rubbing a tired hand over her face as the line rang. I should just forget him.

But no matter how hard she tried, Cassian remained fixed at the forefront of her mind. Perhaps it was because, amidst all the terrifying chaos in her life, he had been the only person apart from Marion to show her genuine, albeit absurd, kindness.

That made her feel beholden to him. If he truly was dead, as her gut heavily suspected, she at least wanted to find his body so he could have a proper memorial.

The call connected on the second ring.

”Officer Bill!” Cixi exclaimed. ”I hope I did not disturb you!”

”Even if you did, would it make any difference if I told you yes?” Bill’s gruff voice filtered through the speaker, accompanied by the distinct rustling of paperwork.

Cixi walked over to her French window, pulling back the blind to look out at the clear evening sky. ”Well, you would not have answered my call if you were truly too busy.”

Bill released a heavy, exhausted sigh. In truth, he was currently staring down a massive report that was due on his captain’s desk in exactly half an hour. Yet he had still picked up the phone.

”What do you want, Cixi?”

She bristled slightly, feeling a twinge of mock offence. ”Why do you assume I want something from you? I could be calling to treat you to lunch. Or coffee.”

”So...” Bill’s voice was flat, distracted by the sound of typing on a desktop keyboard. ”Did you call to invite me out for lunch, coffee, or dinner?”

”... Sometime later.” Cixi pulled her lower lip between her teeth, smiling sheepishly into the empty room. ”I actually needed your help,” she finally admitted.

Bill was writing something on a yellow note and said absolutely nothing, letting the heavy silence prompt her to continue.

”I have a licence plate number,” Cixi said, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. ”Could you run it through the system for me? I need to know where the vehicle is registered, or where it is usually parked?”

On the other end of the line, Officer Bill paused completely. His eyes darting around the noisy precinct out of sheer habit, checking to see if anyone was listening to his conversation. He had awkwardly trapped his phone between his ear and raised shoulder, ”You do realise I am a detective for the city and not your personal pro bono private investigator, right?” Bill warned in a low, hushed tone, and Cixi deliberately ignored it.

”I know, Officer. I know. But this is about Cassian,” Cixi pressed, her grip tightening on the phone. ”Today, outside the cafe, I saw his right-hand man, Mark. And I managed to photograph his licence plate before he drove off. I think we can get a real lead from this. Who knows, maybe Mark is the one behind his murder—”

”Cixi, stop,” Bill interrupted sharply, his tone dropping into a deadly serious register. ”Stop using the word ’murder’ over the phone. Heaven forbid, if a body actually does turn up, do you know who the department is going to look at first if you keep running your mouth?”

She was not doing it willingly. She only wanted to feel less guilty about something she had no control over. At the thought of being interrogated by the police, Cixi swallowing hard.

”Yeah... I know. I haven’t told anyone but you. It’s just... we still don’t know where he is. And his family does not even look concerned.”

”That is the power of old money and deep influence, Cixi,” Bill replied. It was a disgustingly common occurrence in his line of work. ”These elite families dictate the narrative. The news channels simply mimic whatever script they are handed.”

”Yeah... sadly,” Cixi whispered in disappointment. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass of her apartment window. ”But what about the vehicle’s address? Do you think you can help me with this? We might actually find Cassian.”

Bill did not answer right away. He cast a miserable glance at his wristwatch.

Fifteen minutes left.

”Yeah. Sure,” Bill grumbled. ”Text me the plate number. I’ll send you the details when I have them.”

The line clicked dead instantly. He had hung up before Cixi even had the chance to say thank you.

*

*

*

Exactly at eleven-thirty that night, Lily stood outside Cixi’s pink apartment door.

She started knocking politely at first; her knuckles rapping lightly against the wood. ”Cixi...” she called out in a hushed whisper.

There was absolutely no reply from inside the dimly lit apartment.

She tried again.

Then once more.

With each failed attempt, Lily’s patience steadily chipped away, and the knocking grew progressively louder. For ten agonising minutes, she stood alone in the quiet hallway. By the time the clock crept towards eleven forty-five, Lily no longer cared if she woke the entire floor of broke, sleep-deprived students.

She began to bang on Cixi’s door savagely. She pounded her fist against the cheap wood without pause, utterly ignoring the dull, throbbing pain radiating up her wrist, with one thought fixed in her mind.

She would take Cixi to the party.

Cixi needed to socialise and get out of her apartment more.

Finally, Lily took a half-step back. She drew her arm up, curling her fingers into a tight, frustrated fist, and prepared to throw her entire body weight into the door in one massive, final blow.

Right before her knuckles could make impact, the deadbolt clicked abruptly.

The door swung open.

Cixi stood groggily in the doorway, furiously rubbing the heavy sleep from her eyes.

”I am here!” Lily announced brightly, instantly dropping her fist and beaming as if she had not just been trying to break the door down.

She had deliberately shown up alone, leaving her heartbroken friend behind for now.

Lily knew Cixi well, and if the girl truly slept as deeply as she claimed, she was going to need extra time for a complete, from-scratch remodelling.

”Yes. I can see that you are here,” Cixi mumbled. She ran a hand through her messy blonde hair and squinted painfully against the harsh fluorescent hallway light. ”I was genuinely praying that you would somehow magically forget all about me until tomorrow morning. I guess my prayer was rejected once more.”

Lily let out a sarcastic laugh. ”You wish, Barbie doll.”

Letting out a defeated sigh, Cixi stepped aside, giving her friend enough room to slip inside the tiny, barely furnished apartment.

As Lily walked past her, Cixi caught sight of the large, overstuffed backpack slung heavily over Lily’s shoulder.

It was a well-known open secret at the cafe that Lily rarely ever went back to her own bed after a night out clubbing.

”Have you come fully equipped with a plan to spend the night at some stranger’s home?” Cixi asked, locking the door behind them.

Lily rolled her eyes playfully and dropped the heavy bag onto Cixi’s narrow kitchen counter. ”No, Cixi. Have a little faith in me. I brought you some nice dresses to wear to the party.”

Cixi immediately crossed her arms over her oversized T-shirt in mild, defensive protest. ”Can’t I just go in my usual clothes?”

Lily unzipped the backpack with a dramatic, sweeping flourish. ”Nope. Can’t do it. Where we are going tonight is a very special place, Cixi. A place where the real, big-money people come to play. You cannot show up looking like you are heading to an eight a.m. sociology lecture.”