On paper, Detective R was spotless—no blemishes, no scandals, not even a rumor to cling to. A golden boy in uniform. The deeper Yuu dug, the cleaner it looked. Too clean.
No one' s life was that perfect.
Not unless they were hiding something.
Yuu leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing at the two files glowing on his screen—his own, and R' s. Both immaculate. Both unnervingly similar. Polished records, flawless lineage, solid education, model careers. Every time R walked out of a drug den or human-trafficking pit without a scratch, Yuu' s unease grew sharper.
Colleague or watchdog? Partner, or the one sent to keep him in line?
The thought gnawed at him.
He tapped a finger against the photo of R' s sharp, composed face—his smile calculated, his presence almost too polished for this rotten world.
Had a politician planted him here from the start? Or was it something else entirely?
"Inspector."
The voice snapped Yuu from his thoughts. Heavy steps drew close. He turned, finding R at his desk, posture straight as a ruler, fingers flying over the keyboard, hair neatly combed as if the man had stepped out of a recruitment poster. Yuu stared too long.
R looked up, offered a polite smile. "I' m heading home. My dog' s waiting."
"I' m in a bad mood," Yuu rumbled, his voice like gravel. "Come drink with me."
It was the first time he' d ever invited anyone. R' s smile lingered, but he shook his head. A teasing tilt of lips—playful, almost mocking—made Yuu' s mouth twitch into something closer to a smirk than a smile.
He planted a hand on R' s chair, leaning down until his shadow swallowed the smaller man whole.
"I need to talk. About work."
R tilted his chin, refusing to flinch. His eyes met Yuu' s head-on, sharp and clear.
"If you want the truth, go chase suspects, not colleagues," R said coolly. "I told you before—I agreed to that deal out of courtesy. Doesn' t mean I' ll dance for politicians."
Still, when Yuu didn' t back off, R' s shoulders stiffened. He wasn' t used to this kind of rough, blunt pressure. Most people backed away the moment R smiled. But Yuu was different. Yuu leaned closer.
"Let me buy the drinks."
R exhaled sharply. Muscles coiled to push the bigger man back, but the sheer bulk in front of him made it pointless. Yuu' s broad shoulders blocked every exit.
"My dog' s waiting," R tried again, softer this time, tilting his head with a disarming sweetness.
Yuu chuckled low in his throat, the sound sharp and dangerous.
"I' ve got new intel. I need a consultant. Urgently."
"…Why not ask Preecha? You two seem cut from the same cloth—loud, intimidating. I prefer things simple. I don' t like dealing with thugs."
That last word slipped harsher than R intended.
Yuu' s jaw flexed, but instead of anger, his smirk deepened. "If I could talk to him without starting a fight, I wouldn' t be here. Mafia and cops—they' re both dangerous, but never in the same way."
Finally, R sighed. "…Fine. I' ll go. But get out of my face first."
"Five o' clock. Black BMW, plate 9942."
R muttered under his breath as Yuu strode off, "Sounds like Rey' s password if you read it backwards…"
Later, the two of them sat by the Chao Phraya River, golden beer in hand, night air thick with silence. No food touched, no words exchanged. Only the river, glittering under city lights, and the heavy weight of unspoken suspicion.
The phone on the table buzzed.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
R ignored it, sipping instead. Yuu tilted his head toward the device. "Your phone."
R shut the screen off. "Ordering fried chicken for my dog. Say what you need to say."
Yuu' s laugh was low, dark. His eyes pinned R, gleaming with something that felt too close to hunger.
"…You don' t like me, do you?" Yuu asked.
R blinked. "What?"
"With everyone else you' re easy. Smiles, small talk. With me, it' s like you' re forcing it. Is it because I work for those politicians? Or because I bend the rules to get paid? It' s just side work. If I land the billion, I get twenty percent. That' s all."
"You' ve done side jobs before," R said, tone flat. "That' s why they trust you."
"Anyone who delivers gets called again. Don' t act like you' ve never taken an offer."
"True. You forget what case I wrapped up right before that meeting?"
"…Money-laundering bust."
They clinked glasses, silence returning. The river carried their thoughts downstream.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
R silenced the phone again. Yuu drew a long breath, his words dropping like confession.
"…R, help me."
R glanced over, head tipping. His voice was soft, a little slurred from the alcohol. "Help you how?"
"In this whole force, you' re different. Too calm. Too polite. Too… unreadable."
"You' re saying I' m hard to handle?"
Yuu' s jaw tightened. His voice was low, almost grudging. "…I can' t figure you out. At all."
R tilted his head back, laughter slipping like smoke. A smile touched his lips—bright, beautiful, yet chilling in the dark.
For the first time that night, Yuu' s composure faltered. His chest tightened.
That smile…
…was the kind you never quite knew how to survive.
"Why does he feel so much like my ex…?"