New York.
Thanksgiving snow is still in the sky, Inuo waiter with breakfast, walking through the hotel, and finally carefully stopped at the door of the presidential suite, knocking on the door: "Sir?"
Inside the suite, there was a somewhat tired voice that sounded like a human just waking up, "Enter."
Inuo entered carefully.
He stared at the steps in front of his feet without blinking, walked all the way to the sofa, sat down on his knees, and started to put out breakfast.
It was a classic American breakfast of steaming coffee, brightly colored omelettes, bacon, bread, and pizza.
On the table were piles of newspapers, some in full stacks, some cut with scissors, and scraps of paper littered the place in a messy fashion.
Inuo carefully placed a grease-free plate on top of the pile of newspapers and brought over the coffee before carefully averting his eyes to Ichijō Mirai on the sofa, "What is wrong with you, my lord?"
There was a projector in the room with a dead body on it.
Below it was the time: 6:03.
This represents the time of the last page turn, and each time the page is turned, the time in the lower right corner of the projector will be refreshed to the time of the page turn, and the time will not be refreshed until the page is turned again.
The time now is 6:13, which means: "Are you still awake?"
Inuo's eyes fell on Ichijō Mirai's leg as he watched his nose and ears, and carefully said, "Is there something wrong, my lord...?"
He whispered, "You haven't slept for four or five days, you should pay more attention to your health."
Ichijō Mirai was rubbing his brow, and reacted to his words, "It's been almost five days since I've slept?"
"That's why I can feel my brain squirming," he said horribly without expression, "but my headache wasn't due to lack of sleep."
It doesn't hurt now, either. The painkillers did their job.
"It's from meeting a dog."
He smiled politely, "A dog who talks about what's best for me, who says he only wants me to live, who says things like 'overturning drafts and talking to me honestly' with a straight face, but in fact every word he says is adding a piece of firewood to my brain that I can't think with, and makes me just dizzy."
...Don't be so precise about what you can't think!
What's 'overturning the draft'? It's obviously stepping on the mines precisely according to the draft, step by step, increasing your own dizziness, isn't it?
What 'don't tell me the exact time, place, person and event, just be happy and do whatever you want', you don't trust your own character at all!
How can anyone not trust themselves? Can't you just let yourself play with what you care about? It's just for fun!
How can such a guy find a lover? Who's blind and so miserable?
Revenge, definitely revenge!
Every piece of wood in his brain is just right, so he can only get more dizzy, so it's definitely revenge for feeling bad that he had to completely erase a part of his memory, isn't it?
Or maybe it's because he thought 'I'm sure I'll have some fun with the people I cared about when I lost my memories', so he's taking revenge in advance with a sense of forethought!
...
The words of 'Ichijō Mirai' were blurring, as if they had been brewing over a long period of time, and were silently melting away.
Ichijō Mirai spat out the last sentence with a strong voice, "What 'just to live', said as if it was for your own good, but in fact, you're sure that if I live, I'll be able to achieve some of the results you want, aren't you?"
"'In order to live, I can die appropriately' should be replaced with 'In order to achieve the ending you want, I can die appropriately to achieve the happy ending', right?"
It's okay to play with your buddies, but don't play with yourself!
He calmed down, "I haven't slept in almost five days?"
"I see," Ichijō Mirai nodded deeply, "no wonder I wanted to find someone to bring him down."
Like Gin, like Gin, like Gin.
He smelled the greasy smell of breakfast and the bitter taste of coffee on the table, clearly felt his brow twitch, presumed it must have throbbed because of the too strong smell, and frowned, "The smell is too strong, take it down."
"Replace it with a glass of plain water."
"You haven't slept for almost five days," The Inuo waiter could only put away the plates, and was really very worried, "You haven't eaten much in the middle of the day, my lord..."
Who wastes their playtime eating and sleeping?
It's better to pick up trash.
Ichijō Mirai was noncommittal, "Hot water."
He looked down at the papers on the table, weighing the weight of the unsolved cases, "Ten months duration, three deaths in the first five months, home invasions with a gradual increase in the number of deaths recently,"
"Six months in duration, the killer hasn't gotten bold yet, no high-frequency bar cases,"
"Two months, three deaths in an axe murder."
"The casino case, which is being freshly reported,"
The hot water came quickly.
Ichijō Mirai took it, took a few careless sips, put down the glass, and casually patted the Inuo waiter's face with the back of his hand, "Don't worry, I won't report you to the FBI after I'm caught,"
"As long as you're useful."
Waiter Inuo kept his head still for Ichijō Mirai to pat himself on the back, but his eyes vibrated, "C-caught?"
He inquired urgently, "Have the FBI people arrived already?!"
"James told the FBI about you?!" His face grimaced and twisted, "Your Honor, you should not have been so kind as to..."
James?
Oh, that little cutie who brought warmth to the FBI.
Ichijō Mirai didn't say a word, didn't even move his eyes, still staring at the newspaper in his hands, and slapped Inuo's face again as a warning.
The waiter immediately shut up.
"Have there been any more cases in the early hours of the morning?" Ichijō Mirai asked, "The FBI will take care of it."
"It's time to go home."
The FBI, the smell of home. International criminals say it's good. Ichijō Mirai thought so. "We can't go to prison this time. We have to find a way to find a bad guy."
Someone in a position of power and ability.
Without power, you can't keep a criminal.
Without ability, you can't keep yourself alive under Ichijō Mirai.
"Back, home?"
Inuo's waiter's mind went round, and round, and round, "You want to fall into the hands of the FBI on purpose...?"
The police undercover asked for it.
Ichijō Mirai had planned to go back when he had enough, but 'Ichijō Mirai' asked for it again...
It's okay.
He retorted carelessly, "How can you say it's intentional, it's obvious that the FBI elite and I fought 300 rounds, and in the end, due to coincidence and luck, they managed to arrest me, and sympathized with me, and decided to fish me out as a partner when they felt that the FBI, which was full of losers, was too desperate."
Ichijō Mirai knew all but the last half of the sentence.
He flipped through a newspaper, "But before I do, I'll have to sift through it and pick out the perfect match, and my dear partner will just have to suffer a few minor setbacks first."
"Who could be so lucky?"