𝔸𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝔸𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤, 𝔻𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝔻𝕦𝕤𝕥 |ℍ𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕓𝕒 𝕊𝕒𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕦|

四: ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 ℝ𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔼𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕪𝕤

"So, what're you calling about, (y/n)?"

You cleared your throat.

"It's about that task force briefing the Chief Superintendent is planning. I heard it on tv just now and I was wondering if I could sit in on it."

She was silent on the other end for a few moments. You bit your lip anxiously, wondering if you had said the wrong thing.

"... I don't know about that, (y/n). I'm not really in a position where I can make those kinds of decisions."

"Couldn't you ask him? Surely, you can do that, right?"

"I supposed so, yes. I'm currently on my break right now, so I'll ask him once I get back to work. I'll call you with his response once I get out of work."

"Got it," you replied. "Thanks for the help, Ms. Sato."

She hummed on the other end.

"Yeah. Have a nice day, (y/n)."

"You too."

A small beep told you she had hung up. You pulled the phone away from your ear and set it down on the kitchen table.

After washing the dishes, you headed upstairs to your room. While the police were the ones officially in charge of this investigation, that didn't mean you wouldn't be doing some secret work of your own.

Collapsing into your desk chair and still in your pajamas, you zipped your purse open and pulled out the letters and journal, spreading them out across the desk.

Each of the letters had a number written on their envelopes. You pulled out the envelope with a giant number "one" written on it in black ink and carefully tore it open.

To my dearest (y/n),

If you are reading this, it means I am already dead or soon will be. Please don't fret; if I hear that you're sad over my death, I'll be rolling in my grave in despair.

You snickered at that last sentence, then continued reading.

I know you're going to ask: did I know I was going to die?

The answer to that is obviously yes. We all die at some point. Immortality is a concept we haven't yet achieved. Though theoretically speaking, if it did exist, I suppose I'd be alright with it, if it meant I could spend all of eternity with you.

And I'm getting off-topic now. Ahem.

But as I said, everyone will eventually die without exception. It's just that I'm more prepared than others when my time comes. Besides, detective work is dangerous. You make plenty of enemies along the way, most of which are criminals you've arrested and their relatives. It never hurts to be prepared.

The number on the covers of these envelopes directly corresponds to the journal entries. Don't worry, there are not that many entries, despite its appearance. The last entry is somewhere around the middle of the journal if I recall correctly.

Work at your own pace, but please make sure it's consistent and somewhat brisk. I have a fair idea of who killed me, and I fear to see what would happen if he is not caught in due time.

Good luck,
- S. Hakuba

You stared at the letter. Already, your mind was running at full speed.

He already dropped a clue in the last paragraph. It's most likely a male.

Unlocking the journal, you flipped it open to the first page.

22/09/2017
3:33:05 pm

The timestamp caught your eye.

"Three years ago..." you murmured. "That's when he began making a name for himself."

Earlier today, at 12:15:04 pm, I arrested a man by the name Samuel Bradley. There had been a string of serial killings around the Soho area in the West End of London. I must admit that while the cases themselves weren't too difficult to solve, it was the sheer number of them that made this case overwhelming in stress. Then again, it may be because the officer Scotland Yard sent out to investigate wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.

The murders were rather cookie-cutter to previous ones I've solved before. What stood out the most about this case was how only young men in their teens through early thirties would be targeted. Rather concerning, now that I think about it and consider my own age...

I can only hope he doesn't break out of jail during his life sentence.

- S. Hakuba

"There's one potential suspect," you murmur as you pull out a notepad and scribble down the suspect's name.

Samuel Bradley. Arrested for mustering several young men in their teens through early thirties. Saguru's age falls within the range of his victims.

Pulling up your laptop and popping open the lid, you began your research. You managed to dig up the court record from his trial and found some images of him.

He was a scrawny wisp of a man with the face of a rat's. You could practically see his beady eyes flitting to and fro in the image and even through the grainy photo, his hair looked unkempt and unwashed.

You shuddered at the picture of him before reading the court record. It seemed pretty typical and you quickly skimmed over the contents.

Except for one part that stood out. You had to do a double-take at it after you skimmed over it without realizing it.

Reporter: Anything else you'd like to say before this session ends?

Bradley: I wish I could've gotten my hands on that meddling detective when I had the chance.

Shivers ran down your spine at that last sentence.

Good lord, even at that young of an age, Saguru was already making enemies that had the urge to kill him.

Deciding you had enough of investigating past criminals, you decided to take a break and go on your phone for a bit.

At that moment, your phone started ringing. You recognized the caller ID as Miwako's and you eagerly answered it.

"Hello? (Y/n) speaking."

"(Y/n), I'm out of work now, and as promised, I asked the Chief Superintendent if you could sit in on the briefing tomorrow. He said yes without missing a beat. I guess that settles it then. Do you need me to pick you up tomorrow or do you have a way to get here?"

"No, don't worry about it. I'll just take the train there. See you tomorrow then, Ms. Sato."

You hung up, letting out a sigh with the knowledge that one of your objectives was completed.

You were currently reading something online when you heard the garage door opening, indicating your parents were home from work.

A slow sense of ice-cold dread began spreading over you.

Crap. Had time really flown by that fast?

You shot a quick glance at the clock sitting on your desk. 3:30 pm. They were right on time.

"No, no, no, this can't be happening," you mutter. You had only intended to be on your phone for a few minutes before getting started on your homework. But here you were now. They were home and you hadn't even started any of your assignments.

Including that one fifty-point English essay due tomorrow.

You groaned and turned back to your laptop, trying to look busy at work. Watson screeched in concern next to you.

Your parents were so going to kill you.

Finally setting up the main story now.

Word count: 1850 words

Page count: 16 pages