I could practically hear the sound of her veins popping out from her forehead. It was a sharp, pulsing twitch that looked like it might explode any second. Her face was the color of a ripe tomato, and I was almost tempted to take a step back before she actually did blow up.
"I'm sorry, but I don't get what you mean," she said through gritted teeth, her tone trying to stay calm but clearly shaking with irritation. "Am I not passable because I might not do my job properly… or is it something else?"
"Nah, I don't really care about how good you are at your job or not," I said, waving my hand lazily as my eyes wandered off elsewhere.
Honestly, I didn't want to think about anything right now, except that I had just missed the golden opportunity to flirt with that cute waitress earlier. The thought alone made me want to punch the air in frustration. What a tragic loss. A once-in-a-lifetime event gone just like that.
The woman beside me looked like her jaw had completely detached and hit the floor.
"W-What's with this guy?!" she burst out, her voice practically trembling in disbelief. "Not only did he rudely stare at my chest and call it flat, but now he's saying I'm not even passable? Seriously, who does this man think he is?"
She turned toward Thessa, completely ignoring me, as if I wasn't worth talking to.
Honestly, that was fine by me. Probably for the best, even.
I wasn't a fan of being handled.
Hell, I didn't need a handler. Having someone breathing down my neck sounded more like a punishment than a help. It was just one big pain in the ass.
And to top it off, I could already tell she wasn't even putting her full effort into this. The way she carried herself said more than words ever could. I mean, her stance was firm, grounded, and sharp. She wasn't some rookie, that I could tell. She had the posture of someone trained in multiple disciplines. She was probably a swordswoman, definitely skilled in martial arts, and judging by how her hand occasionally drifted near her hip, she had the instincts of a shooter too.
So why the hell was someone like her playing babysitter? She could've easily joined some elite security force, maybe even the secret service if she wanted.
"It's fine," Thessa said with that casual, knowing tone of hers. "He's just a little… off his head, you know? Comes with the detective territory."
"Oh, my head's working perfectly fine," I said, opening my computer and typing the words big boobies into the search bar with a straight face.
Thessa immediately walked up and unplugged the computer in one swift, practiced motion.
"Detective," she said, exhaling like a disappointed mother, "I think it's best if you behave like a professional when you're around someone new, don't you think?"
I didn't say a word. I just pulled out my phone, opened the browser, and started typing big asses instead.
Thessa pressed her palm to her forehead, clearly questioning her life choices. "You don't have to worry about him," she said to the woman. "He might look up that kind of stuff, but he's harmless. Essentially." Then, with a sly grin, she glanced down at the woman's chest. "Well, you'll be safe with him, I guess."
"What's that supposed to mean?" the woman snapped, glaring at her, her cheeks flushing pink as she pieced together the insult.
"She just said your chest is too flat for me to even bother doing anything to you," I said casually, scrolling through more pictures of asses.
Her entire face went red. "What's wrong with you people?! No, seriously!" she shouted, throwing her hands up. "I thought this was supposed to be a professional workplace! And now I'm paired with some shameless pervert who searches porn in broad daylight? I thought I'd be working with the great detective who once saved the entire city, not this guy! Miss Thessa, please tell me this is a joke. Just reassign me already!"
"Unfortunately," Thessa said without missing a beat, "this really is the person you're assigned to."
"Why'd you have to say unfortunately like that?" I asked, frowning.
"Because you're hopeless. That's why."
That stung a little, but I couldn't even deny it. I shrugged, leaned back in my chair, and kept scrolling.
"This guy? Seriously?" the woman said again, like she was still trying to process the absurdity of it all. "No, no, no. That's impossible. I've heard the stories about the detective who saved the capital from being blown to pieces, the one who solved the impossible with just fragments of clues! You're telling me this pervert is that same man? There's no way!"
"Caine Vayne," Thessa said suddenly, her tone shifting to something firm and official. "Master of forensics and human psychology. Studied magecraft and graduated top of his class. Swordsmanship, marksmanship, spearmanship are all exceptional. One of the most skilled individuals in weapon proficiency across the academy. You should know that, since you were a year behind us in the same institution."
The woman froze, her whole body trembling as her knees hit the floor like her strength had just given out.
"There's no way…" she whispered, voice shaking. "The Caine Vayne I admired so much… turned into a hopeless pervert?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Thessa said again, rubbing her temples. "And as hopeless as he is, his talent makes him too valuable to the agency. That's why we need a strong handler, someone smart, capable, and patient enough to deal with him. You were the top of your class, Alice Thorncroft, so congratulations. You've been chosen for the job."
It was like watching her whole world crumble right in front of me, her eyes distant, her expression blank, and her spirit crushed into dust.
"I can't believe it… All my motivation, my admiration… was for a pervert…" she muttered under her breath, looking utterly defeated.
"She's not even listening anymore," Thessa said, smiling tiredly before turning to me. Then, with a single swift motion, she snatched my phone away. "Caine, take this case and bring Alice with you. Maybe if she sees how you actually work in the field, she'll stop doubting you."
I leaned even further back in my chair, balancing it on two legs with dangerous precision.
"Why would I?" I said lazily. "Solving crimes and all that serious stuff… it's boring. I can't be bothered."
Thessa let out another long, exasperated sigh. "If you do this, we might give you some free time to do… whatever you want."
Now that got my attention.
I sat up, finally cracking a grin. "You should've led with that."
***
A dead body was found floating in the river that morning.
It wasn't just a murder.
It was ugly.
A gunshot straight through the head.
But the more I stared at that body, the more I knew this wasn't your average "bang, he's dead" kind of scene. No, this was personal. Whoever did this wanted the poor bastard to feel it before checking out.
His fingernails—most of them—had been yanked out clean. The tips of his fingers were dark red and swollen, some nails snapped halfway. His skin had burn marks scattered like a map of pain. The smell of scorched flesh mixed with the river's stink.
This was torture. No doubt about it. He was beaten, burned, and broken before they finally decided to give him the mercy of a bullet.
"Handler," I said, crouching down beside the body, my tone flat but my eyes sharp. "Pass me a pair of gloves. I wanna take a closer look."
She didn't respond right away. She was probably still trying to process what she was seeing. Her face looked like she'd just watched her favorite celebrity kick a puppy.
After a moment, she fumbled around in her kit and handed me the gloves, her fingers trembling.
I sighed, took them, and pulled them on with a snap.
The air was cold, the river breeze brushing against my face while I crouched beside the corpse. "Hmmm…" I muttered, tilting my head slightly as I leaned closer. The gunshot wound was small and precise... but that's where the precision ended.
I pressed my index finger gently against the hole on his forehead, then closed my eyes for a moment, as if I could read something from the dead like a book. When I pulled my finger away, there wasn't even a speck of fresh blood.
There was blood flow. There was no pressure.
He'd been gone for a while.
I lifted my head slightly, glancing at the river again. The current was calm now, but you could tell it had been moving fast earlier.
"Seven hours," I murmured under my breath. "Give or take."
I peeled off the gloves, letting them fall to the wet ground, then dipped my bare hand into the river.
"I see…" I muttered softly.
That single phrase was enough to snap my Handler out of her daze. She blinked, straightened, and looked at me expectantly, as if I'd just discovered the meaning of life or something.
"Handler, let's go," I said as I stood up and brushed off my coat.
"H-Huh? Go where?" she stammered, still looking pale.
"To the next location," I replied calmly, already heading for the car.
She hurried after me and slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine. The silence between us was thick, filled only by the soft hum of the car and the occasional splash of the river in the distance.
While she drove, she kept sneaking glances at me through the rearview mirror. "Did you… find something?" she finally asked.
"No," I said, watching the scenery pass by outside the window. "But I'm seeing something. Finding and seeing are two different things, Handler."
She blinked, eyebrows furrowing. "I… see?"
Yeah. She didn't see at all.
After a while, the car rolled to a stop on a bridge overlooking the same river. The air was colder here, wind sweeping over the surface like invisible hands.
"Did he die here?" she asked cautiously.
"Nope," I replied, stuffing my hands in my coat pockets. "He died somewhere else."
She looked at me, half irritated, half confused. "Then why are we here?"
I turned to her, smirking slightly. "To see who did it, obviously. What else do you think we're here for, sightseeing?"
Her lips parted slightly, clearly unsure whether I was joking or serious. So I decided to give her something her brain could actually chew on.
"The victim," I said, crouching again, this time by the railing, "he's from the secret service. Recognized him despite the messed-up face." I tapped my temple. "Information storage up here. Comes in handy."
"Y-You knew him?" she asked, eyes wide.
"No, not knew. Recognized," I corrected, glancing up at her. "Big difference. I've memorized profiles of people who matter. Helps me connect dots when one of them suddenly turns into a corpse."
She blinked again, like she wasn't sure if I was serious or just screwing with her.
"What do you think got him killed?" I asked rhetorically. "My guess? He found something he wasn't supposed to. Got caught. They tortured him to hell and back, and when they got what they wanted—or didn't—they put a bullet in his head. Classic cleanup."
I looked up at the cloudy sky, the breeze blowing through my hair. "After that, they dumped him in the river. He died seven hours ago, but his body only hit the water about three hours back. The current's speed tells me how long it took him to drift to where he was found. Nature's own clock, you could say."
While scanning the ground, something caught my eye. It was a tiny droplet of blood near the bridge's edge. Faint, almost invisible, but it was there. The kind of clue lazy investigators would walk right past.
"Do you know who killed him?" she asked softly.
I smirked faintly. "He's a secret service agent... a spy. But the question is—who was he spying on? Who tortures a man this badly and then drives four hours just to dump him like trash in a river?"
I turned my head slightly, giving her a half-grin. "What do you think, Handler? Who killed him?"
Her brows furrowed. You could practically see the gears turning in her head, struggling to connect dots that weren't even in the same puzzle. Finally, she said the obvious.
"The Viper?"
Ah, of course. The Viper. That was everyone's favorite answer. A violent underground organization known for making their victims beg to die. Pulling nails, burning skin. They were torture artists. Practically the whole package.
Reasonable guess. Still wrong.
"You're pretty good," I said with a grin. "Close, but not cigar-level close. C'mon, let's get in the car."
She groaned softly. "Where are we going this time?"
"Where else?" I smirked, walking past her. "To where the killer is, of course."