Shen Luo

Beyond the Frame
Night fell like ink. The spires of Silver Sparkle, the fog-shrouded city, pierced the starry sky, with only a single window still glowing with light.
It belonged to the second floor of the detective agency, his reception room. Beneath the lamplight, a painting hung silently on the wall, like a provocation placed in plain sight... for everyone to see.
It was the first painting he had ever stolen back.
And the night of his first failure.
He had not returned to the collector’s mansion for a mission.
He had returned for himself.
He calculated the opening and closing of every window, adjusted the refraction of every beam of light, and whispered with a smile:
“This time, I’ll be the one to define beauty.”
He wore a black-and-purple cloak, beneath which he hid a carefully prepared replica.
But that night, the alarm rang faster than the wind.
For the first time, he felt something other than failure.
Excitement.
Not fear, but a desire to be seen.
As he fled into the night, his heartbeat became a deafening roar. For the first time, he realized that the man called “Shen Luo” could no longer satisfy this kind of night.
He had failed to steal the painting.
But he had become addicted.
Years later, he infiltrated the mansion once again.
This time, he succeeded.
But what he stole was not merely a painting.
It was the boundary between his daytime self and something else entirely.
After that night, Null was born.
A name that was a restraint.
A voice that was a warning.
A heart that was a compromise.
He left behind nothing but action: an invitation to one perfect crime after another.
He hung the painting on the wall of the detective agency, without a label, never allowing anyone to mention it.
As if reminding himself;
That was where it all began.
And also,
his most complete final curtain call. Show more