Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 314: Cedric’s Impactful Death

"M-mom... Cedric... he—" Her throat seized. "He's—oh my God—he's dead!"

The scream that ripped outta her mouth was inhuman. Some demonic mix between a sob and a howl, and her mom on the other end? Went dead silent.

Her screaming echoed out the speaker so loud she dropped the phone. Her mom's wails cracked through the air like thunder. Spanish curses and desperate prayers overlapping as if words alone could undo the horror. "Dios mío—mi hijo—qué—NO! NO!" Her grief hit like a fucking tsunami, pouring through the line like it could drown the whole damn world.

But there wasn't time to collapse. She needed help. Real help.

Her hands shook harder now as she dialed 911, and when the dispatcher picked up, she didn't even wait for the whole "What's your emergency?"

"My brother's fucking dead! There's blood—he's—he's just—just his head—!" she sobbed into the phone, sounding half-insane. "There's nothing left of him but his fucking head!"

The dispatcher tried to keep her calm, said help was on the way, said to stay where she was. Blah blah blah. She barely heard it. Her brain was chewing itself alive.

By the time the cops arrived, sirens blaring down the block like war drums, she'd already wiped her prints off a few devices—her laptop, Cedric's hacked-up tablet, and that one hard drive they kept stashed behind the PS5. She was grieving, yeah. But she wasn't about to let her baby bro go down as a damn cyber felon. Not today, Satan.

The cops pushed in fast, gloves on, faces serious. The room went full CSI real quick—photos, notes, mutters like "Jesus Christ, what even did this?" One guy gagged. Another had to step outside. None of 'em were ready for this level of gore.

And then the door swung open again.

Her mom. She must've Ubered, or flown on wings of sheer heartbreak, because she was there, eyes swollen, lips trembling, rushing forward before the cops could even stop her.

They collided in a hug that felt like the world cracked. No words. Just tears. Snot. Gasping breaths. And pain.

Pure, raw, soul-splitting pain.

And in the middle of it, they still made her talk.

Statements. Questions. Did you hear anything strange? When did you last see him? Could anyone have done this?

She answered like a ghost. Voice empty. Tears still falling. But she answered. Because she had to. Because Cedric deserved that much.

And when all that noise finally died down...

When the cops were quiet, the evidence packed, and the questions dried up like dust...

That's when the real silence hit.

Like the whole house knew what had happened and decided to shut the hell up out of guilt. Even the walls were quiet, like they were grieving too.

She dragged herself to the corner and hugged her knees like they were all she had left. Her soul felt like it'd been scooped out and tossed in the trash. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. This was a nightmare. Some sick, twisted dream. Right?

Any second now, she'd wake up to that annoying ass ringtone of his playing BTS or some cringe TikTok remix from his phone.

But nothing played. No ringtone. No comeback. No "gotcha, sis." Just silence... and the smell of blood.

She let her head fall against the wall and whispered, voice shaking like a candle in the wind—

"I'm gonna kill whoever did this. I swear on his soul... I'm gonna fucking end them."

And from that moment... her grief started to shift. Real slow. From agony... to rage.

Her mom just kept asking the same damn question over and over like the answer might magically change.

"Who did this to my baby? Who did this to my boy?!"

She was kneeling beside the stretcher now, hands trembling as they zipped up the body bag—well, what was left of it. The bag barely had shape.

Just a mangled lump inside, except for the upper part where Cedric's head was... untouched. Like some sick joke. His face looked too peaceful for how fucked the rest of him was. Like he was asleep.

Like he hadn't just gotten fucking chappat'ed into meat confetti.

The cops tried to be gentle. They really did. But there's no soft way to take away someone's brother in a bag.

"Ma'am, we're ruling this a murder case," one officer said, his voice all business now, like he flipped a switch. "There's nothing accidental about this level of... damage. We'll need to do a full investigation—autopsy, scene analysis, tech forensic sweeps. This isn't gonna be quick."

No shit, Sherlock.

But Karen didn't say anything. She was too numb. Her brain felt like it'd been wiped with bleach.

Another officer came in, a younger one—looked like he still had acne and couldn't grow a full beard—but he was kind. Gentle eyes.

"We're gonna need to take everything that might help the investigation. Any tech, cables, personal files. And... we'll have grief counselors available, if you'd like."

Her mom didn't respond. She was too busy kissing Cedric's forehead like it'd bring him back.

Karen just nodded slowly, robotic. "Fine. Just... don't break his stuff. He liked his gadgets neat."

It felt surreal, watching them walk around her brother's blood like it was spilled coffee. Bagging evidence, snapping pictures, whispering to each other like she couldn't hear.

Like the crime scene wasn't her fucking life.

They packed up, left cards on the fridge, gave them numbers to call. Told them a detective would be in touch. Told them they were sorry.

Yeah. Everyone's always sorry.

Visit freёnovelkiss.com for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience.

By the time the stretcher rolled out, it felt like the air got sucked out of the house. Her mom collapsed on the couch like her body just gave up. Karen didn't even try to help. She sat on the stairs. Half-dead. Whole body buzzing like a goddamn broken phone charger.

"Mi amor," her mom whispered, barely audible. "I can't stay here anymore. Not in this house. Not with that... that memory. You should pack up and go stay at your cousin's. I'll call your tia."

"What?" Karen blinked. "You want me to leave? This is my house, my house with Cedric."

Her mom shook her head fast. "No, baby. Not like that. I just... I need to be alone. Just a little while. You don't need to see me like this but I don't want to leave you in this apartment with those kinds of memories. Do as I say Karen, okay. And we need to call the family. Your abuela. Everyone. They need to know."

Karen clenched her jaw. "They're gonna act like they cared. Like they ever checked in."

Her mom didn't answer. Just stared at the wall like it might talk back.

*

Later, after the coroner's van disappeared and the sun started dragging itself back up into the sky like it was embarrassed to show its face—Karen sat in Cedric's room. Everythin untouched. His dumb posters. His favorite hoodie still on the back of the chair.

She hugged it like it was him.

Breathed it in.

She cried again. This time quietly. Like a slow leak from a broken pipe.

*

Later that day was the burial.

Closed casket. Of course. 'Cause nobody needed to see what was left. The priest tried to say words that were supposed to make it all better, but they landed like wet paper towels. Her mom screamed halfway through the service and had to be carried off by two aunts. Karen stood there the whole time, silent. Unblinking. Cold.

She didn't feel real anymore. Just... present.

And just like that, everything changed.

She wasn't the funny and strict big sister anymore. Not the chill big sister who'd tease him for watching anime at full volume. Not the girl with sarcastic TikToks and dumb captions about life being mid.

She was the sister of the kid who got murdered.

And no matter what the cops said, she wasn't gonna sit back while the world kept turning like nothing happened.

Nope. Fuck that.

Karen was gonna find out who did this.

She was gonna dig until her fingers bled.

And when she found them?

Oh, they were gonna wish they'd never been fucking born.

That's how it started.

And that's where everything began.

****

Karen came came back later sneaking into the crime scene. The tech room was now a police zone of blinking lights and chaos. Half the shelves had been gutted by the police already, labeled bags hanging off drawers like the room had turned into a crime museum. Dust hung in the air like the house itself hadn't exhaled since Cedric died.

They'd searched everything. Everything.

Except they didn't know everything.

Karen stood at the doorway like a ghost with purpose, hoodie up, hair tied in a messy bun that screamed "don't talk to me unless you've got vengeance or pizza." Her eyes scanned the space like she'd lived a hundred lives in this room.

And then her gaze snapped up.

Above the window. Slightly tucked behind a loose ceiling tile—barely visible unless you knew it was there.

A tiny black eye blinked red for just a second.

The hidden cam.