I

  After a long journey—surprisingly uncomfortable in its sheer monotony—I returned home for the second time that day. The moment the car stopped, I jumped out. The only thing on my mind was sleep.

  “Hey, you’ll manage on your own, right?” the officer called from behind the wheel.

  I ignored him and headed straight for the door.

  Inside, I found Susan already visibly worried. I passed her without a word and collapsed onto the couch, burying my face in the old pillow. Seeing my state, she simply came over and sat beside me, as if she understood my complete lack of desire to talk. At last, with my mind finally at ease, I fell into a deep sleep—my first in a long time.

  When I woke up, daylight was already pouring in, yet I still felt utterly drained. Lying there, I glanced around the room before staring blankly at the ceiling. Susan, who had been moving about the apartment, walked over to me.

  “Here,” she said, handing me a bread roll.

  As I took a bite, she continued.

  “So. What was it this time?”

  “Murder,” I replied after swallowing. “And a serious one.”

  “And your leg? Was that part of the murder too?”

  “What do you think?” I snapped back, pushing myself up. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I have to go.”

  Just as I was about to leave, Susan grabbed my arm.

  “Not in that condition, you’re not.”

  “I know I was supposed to take care of myself,” I said, turning to her. “But this is different.”

  I showed her the book we had found at the crime scene yesterday—Morgan and I.

  “I have to bring this to the commissioner.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  Without another word, Susan put on her worn jacket and snatched the book from my hands.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, hesitating.

  “Does it really matter? He won’t tell you anything anyway while you’re like this.”

  “…You’re probably right,” I admitted after a moment. “But can you handle it?”

  “What’s so hard about it?” she replied, already heading out. “And make yourself something to eat for once.”

  II

  You really should learn to slow down sometimes, I thought as I walked through the city.

  As usual, I didn’t know the details of his case—but this one was different. He had never brought evidence home before. Certainly not something like this book. It was large, awkward to carry, stained with blood, and the crimson drawing of a moon on the cover had nothing to do with its title.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Curiosity got the better of me. I opened it.

  “‘Session of June 6th’… ‘Session of August 5th’…” I read quietly. “So—someone important.”

  By the time I reached the city center, it was impossible not to notice the unusual crowd, all moving toward city hall. What struck me most was their mood—excited, almost cheerful. Completely out of place in a city that was usually anything but pain.

  As I pushed through the crowd, an unsettling sensation crept over me.

  I was being watched.

  Not vaguely—precisely. Focused only on myself.

  With that in mind, I decided to take a longer route to the police station, hoping my potential stalker would give up.

  He didn’t.

  Amateur, I thought.

  He wasn’t particularly experienced, but he stayed alert. Eventually, I reached the station and walked straight into the commissioner’s office.

  “Morgan! Long time no see!” I called out the moment I stepped inside. “How’ve you been?”

  He stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Must be rough with all those protests, huh?” I continued, moving closer to the window. “Go on, tell me.”

  “Uh… there’s been a lot of work,” he muttered.

  “Doesn’t the sunlight bother you?” I asked, ignoring his answer. “Shining straight onto your desk like that?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think anyone should work under conditions like this.”

  I pulled the blinds shut, then sat down across from him and placed the book on his desk.

  “Charlie asked me to deliver this. I assume it belonged to someone important.”

  “That’s correct, but—”

  “And I doubt I’m the only one who figured that out,” I cut in. “Whoever it belonged to probably isn’t on friendly terms with you.”

  Morgan narrowed his eyes.

  “You’re saying someone was following you?”

  “Oh? Took you long enough, Officer,” I said, taking a sip from his mug. “Ugh. That’s coffee?”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Morgan,” I sighed. “I’ve worked enough night shifts to spot people like that from a mile away. And I can tell what they’re interested in.”

  I gestured toward the stack of city hall documents on his desk.

  He stood up and began pacing.

  “How much do you know?”

  “Not much. The book belongs to someone high-ranking, people are flocking to city hall, and the underworld seems oddly comfortable with the situation. That’s… not great.”

  “And what are you planning to do now?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  III

  After finishing the formalities on Charlie’s behalf, I headed home. A few minutes later, I felt it again—that same gaze.

  I quickened my pace. Turned into a side street. He followed.

  Running alone wasn’t going to work. Eventually, I ended up in a dead-end alley.

  “You tried to run, huh?” the man panted. “Nice try. I just need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Idiot,” I scoffed.

  “What did you say?!”

  He lunged toward me—then another voice rang out behind him.

  “I strongly advise you to calm down and put your hands behind your back.”

  Morgan appeared from around the corner with one of his men.

  “Damn it…” the man cursed, but he didn’t resist.

  Morgan walked over to me, grinning.

  “You two are pretty similar, aren’t you?”

  “More like he’s similar to me,” I replied. “I am the older one.”

  As he was leaving, Morgan handed me a small box.

  “A gift for your brother. Tell him to contact me once he’s better.”

  “Hey, what about a reward for catching my stalker?” I asked.

  “You can split what’s inside the box.”

  “Fair enough”

  IV

  “I’m back.”

  Those two words snapped me fully awake. I was lying on the couch, feeling much better, when Susan returned to our small apartment.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Evening, probably.”

  “That late? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Because I wasn’t here.”

  She stood over me.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Definitely—”

  I didn’t finish the sentence. She yanked me off the couch and dropped me onto the floor.

  “My turn,” she said. “Now get me something to drink from my bag. I had a rough day.”

  “You only delivered a book,” I muttered.

  “I know. That’s why I bought something small.”

  I handed her the bottle and sat down beside her. She drained it in one go.

  “You could at least say thank you,” I said casually.

  “And you could say thank you for doing your job for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She turned onto her side and mumbled just before falling asleep:

  “The present from the commissioner’s in my jacket.”

  I reached into her pocket and pulled out the box. Inside was

  an old phone. Worn, but functional. I turned it on.

  Only one contact.

  Morgan.

  I called immediately.