My Roommate: The Untold Story

The Riddle

Alex rolled out an extra mattress beside his bed and tossed me a pillow. As I lay down, trying to settle in, I knew sleep wouldn't come easily. My mind raced, churning with doubts about Alex. Part of me couldn't believe he'd be involved in anything sinister, but another part gnawed at me, insisting he might be helping Chris. I tried to shake the thought, but it clung to me like a shadow.

Agent Walker had posted guards outside, watching me—waiting for what we feared was inevitable. I was next on the list. The killer had made that clear. To stay safe, they'd advised me to hole up at Alex's place, and Alex, ever the good friend, had welcomed me in. I felt safer here than at the dorm, at least, where Chris loomed like a constant threat. But no matter how secure the apartment felt, I couldn't ignore the feeling that danger was creeping closer.

I replayed the details of Mr. Jung's death in my mind. How could Chris have killed him if he was locked up at the time? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Had he escaped somehow? Or was someone else carrying out his dirty work? The more I pondered it, the more I craved the comfort of a cigarette to clear my head.

"Alex, I'm stepping out for a smoke," I said, already fishing out my lighter.

Through the haze of sleep, Alex muttered, "No problem, man. Just be careful."

I paused, something in his voice pulling me back. "I'll be right back," I said, but Alex sat up, his face suddenly serious.

"Eddy, wait. I need to tell you something."

I slipped the cigarette back into my pocket and sat beside him. "What is it?"

"It's about Mr. Kang," he said, his voice low. "I've been thinking... I'm not so sure Chris killed him."

I frowned. "Of course he did. What else could've happened?"

Alex shook his head. "I saw the whole thing. I was there, remember? I saw him fall from the window. He wasn't pushed. There was this... cat. It startled him, and he lost his balance."

I stared at him, not buying a word of it. "A cat? You think that killed him?"

"He fell from the second floor onto grass," Alex continued. "It shouldn't have been enough to kill him. I keep wondering... how did he actually die?"

My mind raced. "Unless someone pushed him," I muttered, my voice edged with suspicion.

Alex flinched, his face tightening. "What are you saying? You think *I* pushed him? It was an accident!"

I met his gaze, unblinking. "Did you?"

"What the hell, Eddy? No! Why would I do something like that?"

I shrugged. "You tell me."

Alex's expression darkened, irritation seeping into his voice. "I know you're upset, but don't drag me into this. I'm trying to help you, man. This conversation is going nowhere."

Silence hung between us, heavy and tense. I stood up, frustrated and uncertain, and headed for the door. "I need that smoke," I said, walking out without another word.

---

Meanwhile, Agent Walker sat at her desk, her fingers drumming against the keyboard as she stared at the riddle once more.

**You think you know who I am. But who am I really? The fourth isn't the fourth. The last should be the next.**

The cryptic message gnawed at her. She pulled out the list of potential victims and began crossing off the names of those who had already died. Her pencil hovered over the fourth name—Eddy.

"Eddy's the fourth..." she muttered to herself, rubbing her chin. "But the fourth isn't the fourth. Which means... he's not next."

Her eyes widened with realization. "Oh my God. It's not Eddy... It's Abby. Abby is the next target!"

She shot up from her chair, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Shoving her pistol into its holster, she barked orders to the agents in the office.

"Agent Spoon, are you keeping an eye on Eddy?" she said into her phone.

"Affirmative. We're stationed outside the apartment," came the reply.

"Pull everyone from that location and head to the PIL dormitory. The next victim is Abigail Snow!"

"Copy that," Spoon responded.

As she hung up, she quickly dialed another number. "We need eyes on Abigail Snow. Get a unit to the PIL dormitory, now."

Just as she was about to race out, her phone rang again.

"Agent Walker, FBI," she answered tersely.

"Hi, Agent Walker. This is Alex. You remember me? Eddy's friend."

"Yes, Alex. What's going on?" she asked, her voice still sharp with urgency.

"I've been wondering... what really caused Mr. Kang's death?"

Walker's pulse quickened. "He had stab wounds in his neck."

"Were they from the broken glass when he fell?" Alex pressed.

"No," Walker replied, her brows furrowing. "They were caused by something long and pointed... likely a hook."

There was a pause on the other end. Then, Alex's voice, barely a whisper, said, "Oh no."

Walker's mind raced. Something was definitely off.