The Homemaker [Spy X Family fic]

Of New Homes and Murder Cases

It was a bright sunny day when your family began to move out of the apartment you've all been staying.

With the alarming discovery of rat infestation inside your home, you and Loid decided that it was no longer possible to stay in there with a child in the house. However, unlike your previous home which was an apartment smacked dab in the middle of the town center, your new place was a large two-storey house located in one of the most exclusive locations in Berlint known for its privacy and picturesque sights. The property has a spacious area which offers plenty of shade, a fish pond and a flourishing garden that you knew Anya would like to explore and play.

All in all, it was a perfect home, too perfect perhaps, for a growing family of three.

"Mama!"

You looked down to see Anya running towards you. Behind her, you could spot Loid, Franky and a few other hired movers carrying large boxes and furniture into the house.

"Sweetie, no running inside the house yet, okay? You might trip on something and hurt yourself," you told her as you carefully shifted your grip on the tray with cups and a full pitcher of cold lemon juice that you were carrying.

She stared up to you, eyes twinkling. "Is Anya really going to live in this house with Mama and Papa?"

"Yes." You bend a little to look at her, smiling. "What do you think about this place?"

The girl spreads her arms happily, full on beaming. "Anya likes it here! This place is big and nice! Like a castle!"

You chuckled, patting her head fondly with your free hand. "I'm glad you think so. Now here, why don't you drink this to hydrate yourself?"

Accepting the glass of juice, she mumbled her thanks, drank the whole thing and handing it back to you before running off upstairs.

"Anya, please be careful!" you called after her.

After putting down the tray in the table by the living room, you turned just in time to see Loid and Franky coming into the room to place their loads on the floor where the rest of the boxes were gathered.

Straightening up to wipe his sweat off the towel that was hanging off his neck, your husband scanned the boxes and said, "I guess this is the last of our stuff."

Franky slumped on the floor at that, groaning in relief. "Oh thank god. I thought it was never gonna end."

"Thanks again for helping us today, Franky," you said before handing them a glass of juice which they gratefully accepted.

Franky waved it off. "It's fine. You know I'm always glad to be of help." Then after a sip of his drink, he moved to the seat by the window and scanned the interior of the room, his foot tapping in sync with the beat of the drums from the radio playing on the background. "I have to say...this place sure seems plenty big for you three. Did you actually buy this place? It must've been expensive."

Sitting next to your husband, you responded, "This house has been in my family for decades but my dad handed the property to us as a wedding gift. You know, after he finally caved in and accepted our marriage."

As you smiled in nostalgia, it didn't escape your notice how Franky gave your husband a subtle glance. You wondered what it was all about.

"So why haven't you both use this house then until now? I mean, it's not like this place is that far from the town proper," the man asked.

"The house is too big for the two of us back then," this time it was Loid who answered him. "But we have Anya now and we thought it would be appropriate for a growing kid to have plenty of spaces to run around."

Franky nodded. "Makes sense," he said, "Maybe you guys need to get a pet too while you're at it. With a big house like this, she'd get lonely without a companion eventually. Unless," here he paused to give Loid a sly look, "You guys are already working on Baby For-eouch! What the hell, man?!"

"You talk too much," muttered Loid as he finished his beverage as a grumbling Franky rubbed the shin where he had kicked him.

Suddenly, the music on the radio stopped when the sound of the news program came in.

"We interrupt this program for some breaking news. Last night, a murder occured at one of the upscale neighborhoods in Berlint," spoke the reporter on the radio, "55-year old Edgar Simons, a shipping businessman, murdered in his own home in a manner reminiscent to the victims of the Crimson Reaper - a serial killer who has not been heard for the last three years until now-"

The woman in the radio went on and on, narrating about the case as she shared to her audience her wild deductions and theories on the victim's so-called dubious activities that made him a target. After all, the woman had said, Crimson Reaper only targets sinners. The report eventually ended with the woman speculating if this signaled the return of the notorious killer and what it meant for those whose ledgers are dripping with blood.

The whole report made your blood ran cold.

"Well damn, so that crazy guy was back, huh."

You snapped out of your reverie as you looked back at Franky who had just spoken.

"Poor bastard though," the man continued, "Knowing the killer's M.O., the victim had probably suffered for hours on end before succumbing to his death."

Your mind flashed back to the all the news you've seen and heard so far regarding the matter.

You remembered the blurred pictures of the crime scene shown in the TV or in the paper where the victim's whole body was cut open from head to toe with the blood soaking the walls and the organs lined in the shelf like some trophy display. The police had deduced that the killer was meticulous in his handiwork, cutting his victims in a way that wouldn't kill them immediately.

Death by torture was what ultimately had killed the victims.

What a horrible way to die.

Suppressing the urge to shiver, you said, "I can't believe the police still hasn't been able to catch him all this time."

"The guy was a slippery one and it didn't help that he suddenly went radio silence for three years."

"And now he's back," Loid finished with a frown.

"...I guess it's a good thing that the killer only goes after people with criminal records," you consoled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

But Franky didn't look convinced with that statement. "I don't know about that. If you ask me, that guy is unhinged. I mean, who goes around dissecting their victims like some frog in biology class?"

"I agree," Loid interjected. "Which leads to the conclusion that the killer does it because he enjoyed the act. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if one day the Crimson Reaper runs out of criminals to kill and moves on to civilians instead."

You cringed the thought. "Oh god, I sure hope not. It was bad enough that there's a serial killer out there murdering people regardless if they're criminals but a serial killer that kills indiscriminately and one that couldn't be tracked by the police? The public would surely panic."

Loid pursed his lips, likely imagining the scenario and finding it unpleasant. "Indeed."

The room descended into a contemplative silence after that.

"Knock! Knock! Anyone home?"

The three of you simultaneously turned towards the source of the voice but found no one there, so you decided to see who it was at the door. Getting up to your feet, you then moved to the front door, only to stop when you spot a familiar woman entering the room.

You blinked.

"Mom?"