Chapter 2 — The Parrot Knows Too Much

Officer Vuong's face remained calm.

“We already asked.”

“It's true that they've all heard your parrot recite poetry.”

“But… they heard other things too.”

After he finished speaking, he pressed play on another recording. This time the background noise was louder, like in the hallway. A young male voice rang out.

“Goose, goose, goose?”

Immediately after that was Ly Bach's voice, familiar yet strange.

"Creek your neck towards the sky."

The young man laughed. “Oh, you still know how to connect sentences.”

“What about this?”

He seemed to be joking, lowered his voice, and said something meaningful.

“Heavenly King and Earthly Tiger?”

There was two seconds of silence in the recording. Then that cold, calm voice rang out again.

“The spleen has to be crushed and mixed into the mud, no one can tell the difference.”

The recording ends. I fell down on the sofa, my hands and feet were cold. I recognized that young man's voice. As the person renting a room on the upper floor, he sometimes teases Ly Bach. It turns out... that's it... Ly Bach doesn't just know how to read poetry. It can also, under certain "passwords", say those scary words.

“Miss Hua.” Officer Vuong's voice rang out again, pulling me out of my panic.

“Now, I ask you again.”

His eyes were sharp as an eagle, locking onto me.

“This voice… are you really unfamiliar with it?”

I looked at him, my mind as chaotic as a tangle of thread. Although that voice came from Ly Bach, it imitated the narrator to perfection. Cold, straight, without any emotion. Like a machine's synthesized voice, but with something vivid and creepy. I've never really heard of it, nor am I familiar with it. Why, when that voice rang out, did an indescribably familiar feeling arise in my heart? Like… I've heard it countless times. So familiar that... like another version of myself. As soon as that thought flashed, I shivered. I'm just an ordinary office worker. Every day I take the train, do reports, and get scolded by my boss. My biggest dream is to win the lottery, quit my job, and travel around the world. How could I be involved in such terrible things?

“I…” My voice trembled.

“I'm not used to it.”

“I'm really not used to it.”

Officer Vuong looked at me for a long time without saying anything. In his eyes there was scrutiny, suspicion... but there seemed to be a very slight trace of confusion.

“So let's change the question.” He spoke slowly.

“In the recording, there is a mention of ‘the third bridge in the park’, do you know where it is?”

I instinctively nodded. “Know… in the swamp park behind my house.”

“What about ‘checkered shirt’?” He paused for a moment, then continued, his voice slow but heavy as a stone.

"We investigated and discovered that recently a male colleague in your company went missing, named Truong Vi."

“The last time anyone saw him, he was wearing exactly the same black and white checkered shirt.”

That name ripped through my chaotic mind like lightning. I remember now. Truong Vi, the company's sales staff, is a shiny man with a crooked tongue and likes to flirt with female colleagues. Last week, he even took advantage of handing over documents to intentionally touch my hand. Feeling nauseous rising up my throat, I threw the file straight into his face. Not only did he not apologize, he even laughed and said I "don't know how to joke". That put me in a bad mood for several days. Then he disappeared. There were all kinds of rumors in the company, some said he ran away with the money, others said his wife caught him cheating and broke his leg. No one took it seriously. Until now. The police brought the name Truong Vi directly to the "checkered shirt" in the recording.

"Are you and Truong Vi close?" Officer Wang asked.

“Not close.” I replied immediately.

“Just colleagues.”

“Before he disappeared, did you two have any contact?”

"Do not have."

I lied. I didn't dare say anything about being harassed by him. I'm afraid... they'll link me to his disappearance. Afraid they'll think... I'm the murderer. Vuong Quan seemed to see through my tension.

“Miss Hua, please cooperate with the investigation.”

“If you provide false statements, you will be held responsible before the law.”

My lips trembled more intensely.

“I didn't… what I said was true.”

He did not press further. Just stand up.

“Let's come here for today.”

“We will take this parrot as evidence.”

“In addition, you are not allowed to leave the city for the next few days, your phone must always be on.”

Officer Liu stepped up, took out a black cloth, and prepared to cover the birdcage. Ly Bach seemed to sense something and began to flap his wings in the cage.

“Raise your head and look at the bright moon!”

“Bow your head and remember your homeland!”

It screamed each verse, its voice carrying something for the first time... like a heart-wrenching cry for help. I looked at it, my heart aching. I harmed it. If I didn't consider myself smart and taught him to read poetry, he wouldn't have attracted the attention of others. The devil's whispers hidden in his head... will not be exposed. Save the landscaper lifts the birdcage. The moment they turned around and walked out the door, Officer Vuong suddenly stopped and turned his head to look at me deeply. Those eyes... seemed to be quietly saying something that I couldn't understand. The door closed, making a very soft "click" sound, but in my ears it was like a switch had been turned on and off, blocking both sound and light in the room. The world instantly became empty… and dangerous. I leaned my back against the door, my body slowly sliding down, finally sitting on the cold floor. In the living room, the empty birdcage stood there, like a giant, silent irony. Ly Bach is gone. My poet, my trouble… and now the evidence. The sound from the tape recorder kept repeating in my head, unable to stop.

“Had to break the skull…”

“The ribs must be removed one by one…”

That voice. Calm, even, without the slightest fluctuation. It's like reading a dry product manual. But the content... is something only devils in hell would say. Why does it feel familiar? I frantically rummaged through my memories, trying to recall every voice I'd ever heard, every person I'd ever met. Family, friends, colleagues... even people who just pass by in my life. Doesn't match anyone. That voice didn't belong to anyone I knew. But that familiar feeling... was like a parasite in my bones, clinging to me and not letting go. A kind of familiarity that goes deep to the core. Like… it was originally a part of my body. Like a heartbeat, like breath breath. I shivered at that very thought. No way. I shook my head vigorously, trying to dispel the wild thoughts. My life is so clear that it's boring. Go to school, take exams, graduate, go to work. Normally, like a glass of water, if thrown into a sea of people, it wouldn't create a single ripple. How can I be involved in murder? I remembered the name Vuong Canh Canh just mentioned. The man was slimy, always smiling in an inappropriate way. I remember the feeling when he handed me the documents, his rough fingers deliberately brushing the back of my hand. Slippery, cold, like a snake. At that moment, nausea and anger rose, I threw the stack of documents straight at his face. Papers were flying all over the floor. The whole office looked over. He just laughed, saying I don't know how to joke. That afternoon, I was in an extremely bad mood. It seemed like a colleague saw that I was not okay and dragged me out to eat barbecue. I drank wine, my emotions rose, and I cursed Truong Vi. Then I remember going home, changing into my pajamas, and going straight to sleep. The next morning, the only thing left was a hangover headache. Greasy clothes still lay in the dirty laundry basket, nothing unusual. But… why do I always feel like I'm missing a piece of my memory? My eyes unconsciously turned towards the balcony. There are a few pots of succulents I planted there. Behind one pot, I saw a small garden shovel with a wooden handle that I had just bought a few days ago. Shovel blade... clean. My heart suddenly sank. As far as I can remember, I have never had the habit of washing off the soil from the shovel.