Hayato woke early, brimming with a rare surge of motivation. His mind buzzed with the half-formed plans that had haunted his sleep. I still haven’t figured out exactly how I’ll get my revenge, he thought. But I know one thing: I need to knock Tempest off the top spot. He had been scouring the game’s forums and the official site, where all the chatter revolved around the upcoming annual clan tournament and the solo competition. Two events that would crown the best guild and individual player. It was no coincidence that Tempest held both titles.


    In his mind, revenge wasn’t just about glory; it was about ruining the status and wealth of those he held responsible. The thought of the Tempest guild basking in their victories left a bitter taste in his mouth.


    His grip tightened as the weight of his resolve pressed down on him. I need to use every resource at my disposal... I won’t win if I just sit around.


    Then a thought struck him, something he should have done from the very beginning—before everything spiraled out of control. I should have gone to the police, he realized. Instead of running away, hiding, and letting his fear consume him, he should have reported the deaths and what he knew to the authorities.


    It’s not too late. If I want any chance at revenge, I need to stop avoiding the real world. Time to do what I should’ve done months ago, Hayato thought, his mind already made up.


    Without wasting time, Hayato got ready and headed to the police station. Now, he stood at the station’s entrance, staring at the sliding glass doors, his heartbeat quickening. But there was no turning back. He steeled himself and pushed forward.


    Inside, he blinked in surprise. Instead of a stern officer greeting him, he was met by a police robot wearing boxing gloves. It rolled forward on rubber treads and handed him a ticket with a number. What kind of police station is this? Hayato thought, his bewilderment clear as he took the ticket.


    The room was practically empty, making the ticket system seem ridiculous, but he took a seat. The robot hovered nearby, as if it were guarding the station from invisible threats.


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    Inside the station’s office, Detective Kenzo Sakamoto, a towering figure standing at 1.93 meters with a muscular build, sat at his desk, completely absorbed in a crossword puzzle—a relic from the pre-smartphone era. His short black hair and serious demeanor made him look every bit his nearly 40 years of age. To his left, his assistant, Airi Yoshida, sat with her legs propped up on her desk, loudly playing a first-person shooter on her phone. At just 1.55 meters, with blonde shoulder-length hair, striking blue eyes, and an angelic face, Airi seemed innocent—though her behavior said otherwise. The sound effects from her game echoed in the otherwise empty room.


    Detective Sakamoto’s eye twitched in irritation. He snapped the pencil in his hand out of frustration. “How many times have I told you to put that thing on silent? It’s annoying everyone around you!”


    Airi looked up from her game, glanced around the empty room, then shrugged, clearly not seeing anyone else who could be annoyed. She returned to her game without a word.


    Veins bulged on Sakamoto’s forehead as his anger grew. “I’m the one being annoyed! You’re bothering me!” he snapped.


    Airi made a face as if she understood, though her acting was unconvincing. She pulled out a pair of headphones from her bag and continued playing, but the sound from her headphones was still loud enough to be heard.


    “And look at how you’re slouching in that chair! What if someone walks in?” Sakamoto growled. Airi, either pretending not to hear or simply ignoring him altogether, continued playing her game, her focus entirely elsewhere.


    “You little…!” he grumbled, slamming his hand on his desk in frustration.


    Just then, the door handle began to turn from the outside. Airi, moving with lightning speed, hid her phone, removed her feet from the desk, and sat up straight, looking like the model of professionalism just as the door swung open.


    It was Chief Haruto Matsumoto, the head of the station, strolling in with his usual cheerful grin.


    “Good morning, everyone! I hope today’s a productive one,” the chief said warmly before turning his attention to Sakamoto. “And Sakamoto, stop giving your assistant such a hard time. Not every detective gets to work with someone as polite and well-behaved as her.”


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Sakamoto, who had been standing with his hand still on his desk from his earlier outburst, was left speechless. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.


    “And it looks like you’ve got some cases already waiting to be handled. Good work, everyone!” Matsumoto continued, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.


    Sakamoto watched in disbelief as his boss left. He shook his head, sighed deeply, and turned to Airi. “Alright, send in the next person.”


    Airi looked at Sakamoto with an innocent smile. “Sakamoto, it’s not very nice to call someone a ‘little brat,’ you know.”


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    He must be talking about the case related to the game, Sakamoto thought.


    What does he mean, ‘this again’? Hayato wondered.


    “Unfortunately, the chief is right,” Sakamoto said quietly. “We did everything we could to solve that case, and unless new, solid evidence comes to light, there’s nothing more we can do.”


    Call me if you have any relevant information, followed by a phone number.