Three young men sat lined up in the car, watching their smaller friend shuffle forward in worn flip-flops, saggy football shorts tied high at the waist, and an oversized, frayed, faded T-shirt.
It wasn' t some cheap market knock-off—no, that shirt cost tens of thousands—but on him it looked like the rags of a street beggar.
Pyramid had his tracker and earpiece switched on. The fluffy-haired, pale, bony little prince, all sharp elbows and spindly legs like a kid who gamed too much to eat properly, drifted lazily toward his target. The man stood tall—nearly two meters—in half a police uniform, and the closer Pyramid came, the more he had to crane his neck to look up.
The boy' s narrow face turned briefly toward the big guys in the car. One of them threw him a thumbs-up. Pyramid answered by flipping him the finger with a stiff grin that dripped sarcasm. On the backseat, the slyly handsome kid burst out laughing so hard he nearly rolled over, clearly more entertained than worried.
Thunk…
The white-and-blue flip-flops stopped right behind a pair of polished leather shoes. Pyramid' s voice cracked out, cocky like some brat:
"Hey, mister… spare me some money for food, pleaseee~"
He stepped closer to Lieutenant Udom, standing beside a sleek imported sedan worth millions. The little boy widened his eyes, palms out, begging right in front of the stone-faced officer. The lieutenant' s gaze swept him from head to toe, breath blowing cold, and he stepped forward without a word.
'Hahahahaha!' The roar of laughter from the car burst through Pyramid' s mic.
'He just ignored Mid! Hahaha!'
'You' re too stiff, man. Try whining a little. That cop' s hot, you know,' Reya coached into the headset like a coach yelling from the sidelines.
'I don' t like men!' Pyramid hissed back, stalking closer to the officer' s broad back.
'Try it once. You' ll get hooked.'
'Hooked my ass!!' He lunged forward, grabbed the man' s shirtfront hard.
"Mister… I' m hungry." His tug crumpled the officer' s perfectly pressed uniform. Udom glared harder.
"You some kind of illegal migrant?" His brows knotted, glare heavy enough to force most hands off.
"Huh?" Pyramid blinked, still holding on.
"Show me your ID card." The lieutenant' s voice was all steel.
"Uh…" Pyramid opened and shut his mouth like a fish gasping for air, while his friends just laughed uselessly.
'Shit, anyone make him a fake ID?' Versailles blurted.
'Nope,' Rome shook his head.
"No card, mister… I' m hungry." Pyramid leaned in closer, still clutching at the officer' s waistband.
'HAHAHA he called him mister~' The jokers in the car cracked up even louder.
'I got goosebumps—Mid' s calling a dude mister deaaaar~'
Lieutenant Udom stared straight at the scrappy brat, eyes sharp. "…Hungry? Fine. I' ll take you to eat."
'Whoa, no way—he' s into clingy types too,' Ray muttered, eyes narrowing. The officer looked eerily like his own husband, though far less attractive.
'Cops love being flirted with. Act like a lapdog and they eat it up.'
'Other people act. You actually lap it for real, Ray.'
'…Can' t even deny. I licked him head to toe.'
'Shameless bastard!'
Later…
"Misteeer~"
Pyramid stood inside the holding cell, small hands shaking the bars like a locked-up puppy.
"Mister deaaaar…"
He waved pathetically, bouncing on tiptoe, restless and whining.
'C' mon, officer, let me out! I won' t eat! I' ll go beg someone else! Why lock me up like this?!' His lips quivered as he clenched his teeth, rattling the cage harder though it didn' t budge.
Reya' s raspy laugh spilled from the control room. "Holy shit… he actually got locked up! Hahaha!"
'That cop' s heartless as hell—some kid begs him for food and he just throws him in a cell?' another friend grumbled.
'I told you, nobody' s as soft-hearted as my hubby,' Reya bragged, puffing his chest, making the car erupt with annoyed laughter again.
'Quit bragging before Mid smacks you with his tiny hands. Just bail him out already,' Rome suggested.
Inside the cell, Pyramid clutched the bars, blinking wildly, bouncing against the floor like a caged mutt.
'Hold on, making him a fake ID. This guy' s tricky,' Ray muttered with a sly grin.
'Honestly, he doesn' t look pitiful at all. Doesn' t even feel like a victim,' someone noted, raising a brow.
Pyramid looked about to shout, but his gaze slid sideways—toward Lieutenant Udom sitting calmly, legs crossed, sipping his drink.
'Your hubby' s definitely being used, Ray,' a friend whispered, voice low but firm.
'You think I' ll let him off easy? No way. Versailles, Rome—while we wait, dig up everything on this Lieutenant Udom.' Reya' s tone turned sharp, finger stabbing at the tablet screen tracking their friend.
'I' m in. Smells fishy already.'
'Count me in too. Even if I hate my inspector hubby, I' ll help for karma.'
'Wait—that' s me you' re talking about, right?' Rome scowled.
'Yuuuup~'
'If I had time, I' d beat you to a pulp, asshole. You' re eyeing my man? I' ll whisper in your dad' s guard' s ear till he skins you alive.' Reya shot back.
Clang clang clang—
Pyramid rattled the bars again, desperate for attention.
"Misterrr, please let me out!"
Udom sat poised, legs crossed, sipping tea in the quiet station, only disturbed by the brat' s nonstop racket. A nearby officer at his desk kept glancing between them, wondering what the hell was going on.
Three hours later
"Bebi Suksawasdee, age twenty-two. Diagnosed with… psychiatric disorder."
The foundation staffer stood upright, hands clasped, eyes calm, voice steady as he listened to the officers read the file. He pointed at the record of the man the lieutenant had dumped into the holding cell as a suspected illegal immigrant.
"Yes. He secretly spits out his meds, so the symptoms flare up, like you saw. Sorry for troubling you, officer." He bowed slightly, then raised his head, lips tight, voice flat.
"Why was he out begging strangers for money?" the sergeant asked, scrutinizing him while flipping the file.
"His family used to be rich," the staffer explained softly. "But they went bankrupt. Since then, he' s had psychiatric issues." His voice trembled as he lowered his gaze, shoulders shaking faintly as if holding back tears.
"How long?"
A small nod. Slow breath. "Three years. His parents committed suicide. Relatives abandoned him. We' ve kept him at the foundation. Adoption' s tough—he doesn' t behave consistently."
The man laid a hand on the file, easing the tension. "What' s he like? Easygoing? Rebellious? Any special skills?"
The inspector' s eyes sharpened on the papers, leaning forward.
"Oh, right—I brought his full file in case you' re interested, or maybe know someone kind enough to take him in. That' d help a lot." The staffer smiled innocently, almost pitiful.
The documents caught the light. Fingers flipped them slowly. Udom sat straighter, mouth twitching faintly as he read. A strange name, a strange personality—not exactly a patient, not exactly normal.
Family background: clean. No dangerous disorders. Not hot-tempered, not defiant. Loves animals. Warm, gentle. Obsessed with Detective Conan, plays pretend as a sleuth, good at finding lost items…
Lieutenant Udom frowned slightly, suspicion mixing with interest.
"…Intriguing."
He set the file down but kept staring as if digging deeper in thought.
Inspector Keerati leaned against the desk, light falling over scattered documents. His eyes lingered on Udom, calm but quietly concerned.
"Good morning, Lieutenant Udom," he greeted smoothly.
Udom nodded, sipping coffee. "Morning, Inspector Keerati."
"Cloudy skies since early, huh?" Keerati mused, gaze drifting out the window at heavy clouds over the river. Udom' s handsome face showed more worry than usual, his sigh long and heavy, head lowered.
"Yeah… feels like a day to sleep. Anywhere but home." His voice was flat, tinged with fatigue.
"Not at home? Ah, right—I heard you took in a psychiatric patient. Never thought you had a soft side." Keerati smirked.
Udom' s brow furrowed. He hadn' t told anyone. How did the news leak? "Well… yeah. Just covering expenses, looking after him on weekends. Might help his condition."
Keerati tilted his head, eyebrow raised.
"Hm?"
"The kid' s not normal. Has a disorder," Udom admitted.
"If you need help, tell me," Keerati said softly, eyes on the officer' s weary gaze.
Udom gave a curt nod, eyes cool and calculating, yet with exhaustion seeping through. "…Thanks."
Keerati lifted his chin, sensing the weight in Udom' s heart, but chose to leave space, easing the heavy air.