The Ones Who Stayed

Chapter 1

I never expected to spend my Friday night wiping down a bar counter while a drunk man cried about his ex-but here we are.

     The pub is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat and regret. A slow, lazy jazz tune plays in the background,nearly drowned out by the low murmur of conversations.

I sigh, absently wiping a glass while watching a man slumped over the bar, mumbling incoherent heartbreak nonsense into his drink. Honestly, I wouldn't say I'm cold-hearted, detached sounds more familiar in my case. As I turn to place the cleaned glass aways a voice calls out.

     "I don't pay you to daydream, you know"

I pay the voice no mind as i place the glass in the rack, then turns to him, hands crossing as i quirks a brow and replies smoothly,

     "You barely pay me at all."

He smirks, amused by my usual banter.

     "I doubt that matters, not with all those designers' clothes that is." He scoff as he slides a glass of water towards the crying drunkard.

I roll my eyes, brushing a stray lock of hair back as i lean against the counter.

     "Right, because my financial situation is any of your business."

He lets out a low chuckle, the kind that barely passes for amusement.

     "It is when you're working at my bar looking like you walked out of a Chaebol family dinner."

I don't give him a response. Instead, I grab a nearby bottle, pouring a neat glass for a customer at the far end of the bar.

     "And yet, here I am, slaving away under your glorious management."

He smirks, resting his elbow on the polished wood.

     "I'd say 'glorious' is a stretch, but sure. Keep telling yourself that, rich boy"

I shake my head, wiping down the counter, not bothering to respond. No point entertaining his nonsense this late at night.

    He watches me for a moment, the smirks, pushing himself off the bar.

"You should go home, you've got that expensive little education to get back to, don't you?"

     I snort but i don't argue. Instead, I untie my apron, tossing it onto the counter before grabbing my bag.

"I'll be back tomorrow."

     He doesn't stop me, but just as I push open the door, his voice follows, low and slightly amused.

"Try not to get yourself in trouble, kiddo."

     By the time I got home, it's past midnight. My muscles ache, my head heavy but my mind? Restless. I drop my bag onto the couch and open my laptop. It's time to pick my case. A list of potential options stares back at me.

          Financial fraud. Boring

          Petty robbery. Solved in two days

          Missing person. Already halfway closed

     I exhale, rubbing my temple. Nothing interesting. Well since i have no other options, I suppose missing person is at least intriguing one way or the other...

Then, my phone buzzes.

Crazy Crime Detectives Chat:

"Did you hear about Professor Lucien?"

"They're being weird about it. No official statement."

"Yeah, he's just gone just like that. No details."

I frown. Gone?

Another message pops up.

"They're saying he's dead."

     The words slam into me. Dead? That-That doesn't make sense. I just saw him last week. He was fine. He was...he was supposed to be in class tomorrow.

More messages flood in-speculations, whispers of an "accident", a vague mention of the university refusing to give out any detail. No cause of death. No reason of leaving. No explaination. Just gone.

     My stomach twists. I grip my phone tighter, rereading the texts, but they don't change. I'm not dreaming, i'm not hallucinating. My professor, the only one I can ask questions to without and judgement, and the only one i can have a nice conversation with-is gone.

And no one is saying why.

     I exhale sharply, fingers moving before I can stop myself.

New Case File:

Lucien Ward. Missing. Unexplained.

     I stare at the words, my stomach twisting. Something isn't right.

And if no one else is going to figure out what happened, I will.