Chapter 18: The Candy Man’s Mask

The next morning, Simon ignored Rhett’s advice to rest and hurried back to Clint’s office. Having returned home after checking the traps the previous evening, he had spent the night restless, wondering if anything had developed in the few hours he’d been gone. Though common sense told him a single night wouldn’t yield much, the thrill of the investigation made his heart race with anticipation. He was exhausted from the uncharacteristic daily physical activity, but the excitement kept him upright.

When he entered the office, he found Larry sitting on the sofa, aggressively devouring a meat pie. It was clearly from the café downstairs. While Larry looked like he was enjoying it, watching him eat didn’t spark the same vicarious appetite Simon felt when watching Clint.

“Oh, you’re here?” Larry mumbled, nodding toward him. His hair was a bird’s nest, looking very much like he had slept right there on the sofa. Simon felt a pang of envy. I should have insisted on staying here last night, too. Next time, I’m definitely staying.

“Where’s Mr. Clint?”

“He’ll be down soon.” Larry pointed toward the passage leading to the third floor. Simon stared at the hallway like a child looking at a candy shop.

I want to see Clint’s private life!

But, being a refined gentleman, Simon suppressed his curiosity and simply waited with longing.

“You could just go up and see him,” Larry remarked dryly.

“M-me? No! Why would I do that?” Simon jumped, startled. Larry gave him a knowing, meaningful look. Just as Simon was about to retort, Clint descended into the office.

“You’re here, Mr. Grayan.”

“Yes.”

The casual way Clint spoke—as if he fully expected Simon to be there—made Simon’s mood soar. Clint looked as fresh and vibrant as ever, and just looking at him seemed to wash away Simon’s lingering fatigue.

“Did you find anything?” Simon asked immediately.

“Yes. We’ve identified a suspect for the animal killings.”

Simon’s eyes widened. “Not just a witness, but the actual culprit? Already?”

“I really pulled through on this one,” Larry boasted, pausing between bites of pie. “The guy’s name is Ashley Lewin. He’s a man in his forties who works at a candy shop.”

Larry and his crew had scoured the district for witnesses. Because many people in the slums wake up before dawn to seek day labor, they found several people who recalled seeing a man leaving the area with a shovel in the early hours. The descriptions were consistent: a well-built man in a black coat and hat. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to pinpoint anyone.

However, luck had been on their side. A young child, awake early with their parents, had recognized the man. He was a local celebrity among the children of the slums.

“The kids call him the ‘Candy Man.’ He owns a candy shop and always gives the kids free treats when they drop by,” Larry explained.

Thanks to that, they had been able to narrow the suspect down to Ashley Lewin in a single night. Furthermore, Larry confessed he had always been wary of the man. In a world where orphans were kicked out of hospitals for having no standing, why would a man be so “kind” to slum children for no reason? Especially by giving away expensive candy?

“Unless he’s up to something, who does that?” Larry argued.

“Maybe he’s just a kind soul?” Simon suggested.

“No! No matter how kind you are, you don’t give away your inventory for free to street kids! It’s bad for business,” Larry insisted firmly. Simon thought Larry might be overthinking it, but if Lewin truly was the one committing these bizarre, decapitating acts, perhaps his “vibe” really was off.

“What do we know about Ashley Lewin?” Simon asked.

“He seems ordinary,” Clint replied. “He apparently moved away for work when he was young and returned about three months ago. He works at the candy shop now; he has a good reputation and is known for being especially kind to children.”

Clint’s initial background check hadn’t turned up anything explicitly suspicious.

“Could an ordinary man really do something so gruesome?”

“You can’t judge a book by its cover,” Clint said.

“I’m telling you, you’ll know when you see him! Go meet him!” Larry urged.

After a brief discussion, Simon and Clint decided to pay the shop a visit. As of now, Ashley Lewin was their only lead to Nora’s disappearance.

After a quick stop at the Apple Tree Lady’s house to confirm Nora hadn’t returned—she hadn’t, and the old woman’s tears made Simon’s heart ache with the memory of the collar—the two headed to Lewin’s candy shop.

The moment they opened the door, an almost suffocatingly sweet aroma enveloped them. Colorful jars of candy lined the shelves. Since it was still early morning, the shop was empty of other customers.

“Welcome. This is Lewin’s Sweets.”

A man greeted them from behind the counter. He was balding but had a pleasant, friendly face with a warm smile. Simon found himself wondering what Larry could have possibly found “creepy” about him.

“What should we do?” Simon whispered.

“Let’s probe him a bit,” Clint whispered back. They approached the counter.

“Is there something specific you’re looking for?” Lewin asked.

“No, actually, we’re looking for a cat. Have you happened to see a cat that looks like this?” Clint produced the drawing of Nora. “Around here, or anywhere else? We’re desperate for any news.”

Clint spoke with a friendly tone but kept a sharp, analytical gaze on Ashley. Simon watched as well, but as he stared at the man’s face, a cold, prickly feeling began to crawl up his spine. He had never been to this shop, yet the man’s face was hauntingly familiar.

I’ve never been here… I always send servants for sweets. Why do I know this face?

“I’m afraid I haven’t. I don’t recall seeing a cat like that,” Lewin replied smoothly.

“I see. Thank you for your time.” Clint began to tuck the drawing away. “Should we head out, Mr. Grayan?”

“Wait… just a moment,” Simon said, the memory hovering on the edge of his consciousness.

“Are you going to buy some candy?” Clint asked, providing an easy excuse.

“Yes!”

Simon grabbed a basket and tongs and began to wander the aisles. The shop used a self-service system where customers filled bags and paid by weight.

“What should I get…” Simon pretended to browse while stealing glances at Ashley.

“Don’t make it so obvious,” Clint whispered, leaning down. Simon quickly snapped his head back to the jars. “Pick some lemon drops for me.”

Clint pointed toward a glass container, using the gesture to catch Ashley’s reflection in the glass.

“I can’t see his face well enough in the reflection,” Simon whispered back. “What did you think of his reaction, Mr. Clint?”

“Based on the reaction alone, he didn’t seem to recognize Nora, but…”

“Mint? You’re buying mint now?” Simon said loudly, keeping up the act. “What’s wrong with mint?”

Is it just my imagination? Simon’s basket was already getting full. He knew they couldn’t stay much longer without looking suspicious. But just as he was about to head to the counter to pay, Larry—who had been lurking outside—made his move. He entered the shop leading a group of raggedy street children.

“Mister! Mister!”

“Oh, you kids are back!” Ashley’s face lit up. He stepped out from behind the counter to greet them with even more enthusiasm than he had shown Simon and Clint.

Simon and Clint exchanged a look. That’s… unusual. To welcome penniless children more warmly than paying customers?

“Want some candy? What would you like today?” Ashley spoke with a gentle, fatherly tone. He seemed to have forgotten Simon and Clint existed. For Simon, this was the perfect chance to observe. As Ashley leaned down to match the children’s height, the shadows of the shop fell across his face.

In that instant, a bolt of recognition struck Simon like lightning.

I remember now.

He hadn’t seen the man in person—he had seen his portrait in a newspaper.

In the original timeline, two children would soon go missing, only to be found murdered. The man arrested for the crime was the one standing in front of him: Ashley Lewin. But the shocking truth that followed was even worse—”Ashley Lewin” was a lie. He was actually Peter Mattison, a wanted criminal with a history of similar atrocities. He had stolen an identity to start over, but his murderous nature had eventually resurfaced.

The revelation that a “kind neighbor” was actually a notorious fugitive had sent shockwaves through the city. There were even rumors that he was obsessed with black magic, given his fixation on taking the heads of his victims. Simon had seen his “Wanted” poster reprinted in the papers after his eventual capture.

It’s him. It’s the same face from the article!

Peter Mattison was currently laughing and handing out candy to the happy children. It looked like a heartwarming scene, but Simon knew better. This was how he scouted his victims.

A cold horror washed over Simon. He had to get those children away from him immediately.

“Kids!” Simon cried out, impulsively stepping between Peter Mattison and the children.