The Lost Son's Cipher: A Code to Unravel
Martin
CRIMES. What does it mean? What's it supposed to tell me?
He flips through the notebook, filled with scribbled notes and half-formed theories. He pauses, his gaze falling on the folded note.
Martin
I found this tucked away in the back of my old photo album. It was hidden behind a picture of me as a baby, a picture I barely remember. Almost like they wanted me to find it.
He unfolds the note, his eyes scanning the faded ink.
Martin
(Reading aloud) If you're my son, come and find me!
He stares at the note, his brow furrowed in confusion. He runs a hand through his hair, a sense of unease creeping in.
Martin
They left me with nothing. Just this note, this code. Why? Why leave me to figure it out on my own?
He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
Martin
Maybe it's a clue. Maybe it's a map. Maybe it's a warning. But what if it's a trap? What if they don't want to be found?
He stares at the word "CRIMES" again, his eyes narrowing. A shiver runs down his spine.
Martin
But what kind of warning? What kind of crime? Maybe... maybe they're in danger. Maybe finding them is dangerous. Or maybe... maybe it's a loophole. A way to escape something, to disappear. A way to protect me.
He reaches for his phone, scrolling through his contacts.
Martin
Maybe I need help. Maybe I need someone to crack this code. Someone who knows the dark side of the city, the hidden secrets, the whispers of the streets.
He taps on a contact named "Max."
Martin
Max, it's Martin. I need to talk to you. It's about my past, about a code, about a mystery. Meet me at the usual spot in an hour. I need your help.
A moment later, his phone vibrates. It's a text from Max.
Max
On my way. Don't worry, I've got a few ideas. I'll be there in a minute.
Martin stares at the text, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous energy coursing through him.
Martin
Maybe this is a good start. Maybe Max can help me understand what 'CRIMES' means. Maybe he can help me find my parents.
He slams his notebook shut, a sense of urgency building within him. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous energy pulsing through him.
Martin
I'm not going to be an orphan forever. I'm going to find my parents. No matter what. But... I need to be careful. This might be more than I bargained for. Maybe they're not who I think they are. Maybe they're not even who they say they are.
He grabs his coat and heads out of the cafe, disappearing into the night.
So, you think you know what 'CRIMES' means? Trust me, you haven't seen anything yet. This city, it breathes secrets, and I'm about to be swept up in a whirlwind of them. Ready for the truth? Because even I'm not sure what I'm about to uncover.
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