The investigation dragged on longer than anyone expected, yet yielded nothing.
No witnesses,
No records,
No history worth mentioning.
The victim had no known family, no social ties, no footprint that mattered in the city's eyes. The word Raven led nowhere, spawning theories that dissolved as quickly as they appeared. Symbol, gang name, signature. None of them held.
Eventually, the higher-ups lost patience.
There was no killer to chase and
no victim worth remembering.
The case was marked for closure.
Sebastian stood still as the decision was announced, his expression unreadable. His fingers curled slowly at his side.
"So that's it?" he asked, his voice calm but sharp enough to cut.
"We close it because we failed to understand it?"
A senior officer sighed.
"There's no place for a nobody in this system, Inspector Blackwell. We can't chase ghosts forever."
The words settled heavily in the room.
Sebastian said nothing more
and just like that, the file was sealed.
Later that evening, the hallway outside the investigation division felt unusually quiet.
Julian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying far too hard to look relaxed. Wendy stood a short distance away, holding her notebook close, her gaze lowered.
"Well," Julian finally said, breaking the silence,
"cheer up, you two. I know this feels wrong. It does. Hmm..yeah, I feel bad for the victim too."
He shrugged. "But what could we do? We didn't find any evidence."
Sebastian didn't respond.
"So," Julian continued, clapping his hands once,
"to cheer both of you up, I'm treating you to dinner."
Wendy looked up. "Dinner?"
"A fancy dinner," Julian corrected immediately.
Sebastian finally spoke. "Probably a celebration for our new team member," he said, glancing at Wendy.
"Journalist Wendy Fairchild."
Julian grinned. "See? Even he agrees."
Sebastian exhaled softly.
"Well, I'm not going to refuse," he added,
"since you are my dearest friend."
Julian froze.
"Haha. Wow. We have a new member now,"
he said slowly, turning toward Wendy.
"If I'm your dearest friend… I wonder what you're going to call her."
He pointed at Wendy. "My beloved friend, perhaps?"
Wendy stared at him flatly.
"Keep that thought in your head, brown-haired. I'm not like either of you."
Sebastian nodded as if this were a perfectly reasonable response.
"All right," he said.
"I'll see both of you at Starkville Restaurant at nine. I need to go."
Julian blinked. "Wait—"
"Oh," Sebastian added casually, already turning away,
"you're paying, aren't you?"
"Yes, Seb."
"Would you be upset if I ordered something expensive?"
Julian sighed. "All on me. Go home and get ready."
Sebastian left without another word.
Wendy watched him disappear down the corridor before glancing at Julian.
"Does he always do that?"
Julian stared at his wallet in quiet despair.
"…Yes."
The sky turned dark.
The clock struck nine when all three of them arrived at the restaurant.
Starkville was warm and dimly lit, the kind of place where conversations softened and the world outside felt distant. The scent of food lingered in the air, comforting in a way the police department never was.
It had been a long time since Sebastian and Julian last went out for dinner like this. Work had consumed them. Cases overlapped, nights blurred into mornings, and meals were often reduced to whatever could be eaten standing.
For a brief moment, it almost felt… normal.
Julian loosened his tie as he took a seat.
"I forgot how strange this feels," he muttered.
"Eating without a corpse waiting for us."
Wendy raised an eyebrow. "That's one way to ruin an appetite."
Sebastian, already seated, glanced around the restaurant quietly. "Enjoy it while it lasts,"
he said. "Normal never stays."
Julian snorted. "Spoken like a true mood killer."
Wendy watched the two of them, the banter, the familiarity, the silence that followed so naturally. She didn't say it aloud, but she could tell.
This wasn't just a team.