Chapter 1: Broken Bone on a Rainy Night

Berlin. Rain seeped through the cracks around the storeroom windows, pooling into a thin line across the concrete floor before winding along the base of the wall like a tiny underground river. Drops occasionally fell from the window frame, ringing crisply through the silence. Deep inside the storeroom, the fluorescent lights hummed. Their pale, even glow pressed the surrounding shadows thin.

Lorenz stood before the workbench. Beneath the cold light, the fractured skeletal specimen lay quietly on a velvet cloth, its surface coated in a fine layer of dust. He reached out, his fingertip just brushing the break.

His vision suddenly changed. The gray-white fragments joined together automatically in his mind. The curve of the ribs, the hollows of the spine, the fine ridges on the final caudal vertebra—all unfolded before him, forming a complete skeleton. He could even see the rough marks where muscles had attached and the angle of the pelvis. When this animal was alive, it must have habitually lain on its side. Its left hind leg had once been injured.

He held his breath and slowly withdrew his fingertip from the specimen. The image in his mind faded, but the reconstruction remained burned onto his retinas, every detail intact. Lorenz lowered his eyes, set down the magnifying glass, and turned toward the filing cabinet. He pulled open a drawer and took out several sheets of yellowed records. His fingers brushed over the paper, but his gaze remained fixed on the image he had just seen. He tried to find a match in the documents, but the records were incomplete, containing only a few blurred measurement figures.

The door opened. Marcus entered with a ledger tucked beneath his arm, his soles scraping softly against the concrete. “Still in the storeroom this late?” He glanced at the specimen on the workbench and frowned. “I read your restoration application.” Lorenz did not turn around. “I want to apply for funding to reinforce the break.”

“We’re already over budget this month.” Marcus opened the ledger, his finger sliding along a line of figures. “This specimen has no exhibition value and no scholarly provenance. You’ll spend two weeks restoring it, and the museum gets nothing in return.” Lorenz paused. “It may be a juvenile of a late theropod species. The skeletal structure is remarkably complete. It could be useful for research.”

Marcus closed the ledger, his voice cool. “Zero commercial value. No sponsor is willing to pay for an incomplete bone.” Lorenz nodded and did not argue further. He returned to the workbench, switched off the light, and used the darkness of the rainy night to quickly sketch several lines from the reconstruction in his mind. The pencil whispered across the paper. Rain seeped in from outside, mingling with the strokes. After drawing the final line, he closed the notebook and stood in the darkness for a long time.

The next day, in the museum gallery, morning light slanted through the high windows, casting long bands across the polished marble floor. Sofia stood before the glass display case, pointing at the newly reinforced specimen as she said to the guide, “The restoration marks are too obvious. The break hasn’t been treated naturally enough.” The guide was about to explain when Lorenz emerged from the back room, the hem of his white coat swaying lightly with each step.

He stopped in front of Sofia, his eyes settling on the angle of the specimen’s curved spine. “When this fossil formed, it was struggling.” Sofia was slightly startled. “How do you know?” Lorenz pointed to the broken rib. “The stress marks here show that it rolled onto its side at the moment of death. When the sediment buried it, the tail was forced toward the right. That’s why I deliberately preserved this original curve during the restoration.”

Sofia stared at him. “Where’s the reconstruction? Where did you get such precise data?” Lorenz fell silent. He turned away and looked at the specimen again. Morning light fell across the fossil’s surface, revealing every fine texture. Once more, he seemed to see the complete skeleton rising in his mind.

At that moment, the click of heels against marble sounded from the gallery entrance. Elena walked in wearing a black suit. Her gaze swept across the display cases before finally landing on the specimen. Marcus followed behind her, a smile spread across his face. “Ms. Elena, it’s an honor to have you come see the specimen in person.”

Elena ignored him and walked straight to the display case. “Mr. Marcus, you wrote yesterday that this specimen could fill a gap in the evolutionary chain. I’d like to hear the specifics.” Marcus cleared his throat. “The specimen dates to the Late Jurassic. It may be a subadult allosaurid, which would be very helpful in studying... the hunting behavior of theropod dinosaurs.”

Elena raised an eyebrow. “Specifically? Height, weight, bite force—or its relationship to known species?” Sweat gathered on Marcus’s forehead. After several seconds, he said, “Those figures are still being compiled. The restoration was only just completed. Further research will require more time.” Elena looked away and turned to Lorenz. “And you? What’s your view?”

Lorenz watched the skeleton taking shape in his mind, his voice calm. “This specimen isn’t an allosaurid. The proportions of its forelimbs and the shape of its shoulder blades are closer to those of an earlier carnivorous theropod. On the evolutionary tree, its branch split off earlier than the allosaurids. It may already have gone extinct by the Early Cretaceous, but it shared a common ancestor with the groups of the Late Cretaceous.”

The exhibition hall fell silent. Sofia looked thoughtful, her gaze shifting between Lorenz and the specimen. Elena’s eyes sharpened. “Where did you get these conclusions?” Lorenz did not answer directly. “The fossils speak for themselves. You only have to listen patiently.” Elena gave a slight nod and stepped closer. Lowering her voice, she said, “I’ll have someone investigate this specimen’s provenance.” Marcus strode forward, his face livid, and warned Lorenz in a hushed voice, “You’ve crossed a line. The museum’s affairs are none of your concern.”

“I only stated the facts,” Lorenz replied calmly, shaking his head. Elena turned and left, the click of her heels receding in a trail of crisp echoes across the marble floor. Sofia glanced at Lorenz, then departed as well. Silence returned to the hall, leaving Lorenz alone before the display case.

That night, cold light flooded the storeroom once more. The rain had stopped, and beyond the windows lay utter darkness, broken only by the hazy glow of distant streetlights. Lorenz stood alone at the workbench, his fingertips resting on the fossil again. The reconstructed image surfaced in his mind. This time, he noticed an exceedingly fine incision at the end of the caudal vertebra, like a mark deliberately left by human hands. He frowned and was about to examine it more closely when a dark figure appeared in the corner of the surveillance feed. Dressed in black, face concealed, the intruder moved slowly and silently, heading straight for the cabinet that housed the specimen. Lorenz looked up, his gaze landing on the screen.

The figure stopped and raised his head, looking directly into the camera. His gaze settled on the fossil for several seconds. Then he turned and vanished into the darkness. Lorenz stared at the screen, his hand frozen in midair. In his mind, the skeleton seemed to tremble faintly.

The figure disappeared beyond the edge of the frame. Only cold white static remained on the screen. The storeroom was silent save for the low hum of the air conditioner. Lorenz stared at the empty corridor, his fingertips still suspended as though pinned in place.

He drew a deep breath and dragged the surveillance recording back to the moment the figure appeared, then played it frame by frame. The man was lean, his movements feather-light. He walked straight ahead without hesitation, clearly familiar with the route. He stopped precisely before the specimen cabinet and remained there for several seconds, neither touching it nor taking photographs, as though confirming something. Lorenz enlarged the image, trying to make out his features, but the black clothing concealed everything. Even his fingers were covered.

He shut off the surveillance feed and returned to the workbench. Under the light, the incision at the end of the vertebra looked deeper, as though deliberately scored by the tip of a knife, yet it was almost invisible. He examined it through a magnifying glass. The mark formed an extremely fine serrated pattern—neither a natural fracture nor a trace of restoration. It resembled some kind of sign: a record, a serial number, or a warning. Lorenz traced its path lightly with a pencil, then pulled out the specimen registry and checked the catalog number. The fossil was registered as a “Late Jurassic theropod caudal vertebra.” The provenance field was blank, while the date of entry had been blurred, as though deliberately erased.

He frowned. A specimen like this should not bear any markings—unless someone had intended to leave a signal. The skeletal reconstruction surfaced in his mind again. This time, he noticed that the incision corresponded to a crucial junction with the pelvis. The mark was like a key, pointing toward a missing piece.

Lorenz closed the registry and left the storeroom. At the far end of the corridor, the night security guard sat dozing in the duty room. Lorenz hesitated, then chose not to wake him. He returned to the storeroom, carefully locked the specimen back inside the cabinet, and covered it with a white cloth. He did not want to attract attention, especially now that Marcus was already on guard.

Back in his quarters, he spread out a sheet of drafting paper and sketched the shape of the incision. The serrations ran in an irregular pattern, yet the gaps between them were almost perfectly even, like some kind of code. He tried arranging them in different sequences, without success. The night deepened. The rain clouds scattered, and moonlight streamed through the window. Lorenz set down his pencil, his gaze fixed on the symbol drawn across the page.

He remembered Marcus’s words: “The museum’s affairs are none of your concern.” But the incision was not natural. Its existence meant that another pair of hands had once worked on this specimen—and whoever those hands belonged to clearly did not want anyone to know.

He switched off the light and closed his eyes. The skeleton remained in his mind, the incision on the caudal vertebra glowing faintly in the darkness. He sensed that the mark connected not only to the missing pelvis, but also to a piece of history someone had buried.

At two in the morning, the surveillance screen monitoring the corridor outside the storeroom suddenly flickered. The dark figure appeared again. This time, he did not stop before the specimen cabinet. He walked straight to the archive room, pushed open the door, and entered. The figure vanished inside. The feed returned to normal, as though nothing had happened.

Lorenz was asleep and knew nothing of it. But deep within the storeroom, the indicator light on an old recording device blinked softly—as though documenting what had happened, or waiting for what would come next.