The morning atmosphere was brisk as I walked through the fire station's parking area, my coat fluttering gently with every move. I was dressed in a lengthy gray trench coat that I had purchased yesterday at the mall. It was a perfect fit, stylish, practical, and striking enough to leave a mark. Wearing the fedora and black leather gloves, I appeared as if I had emerged directly from a noir movie.
That was intentional.
I wasn't just here to ask questions—I was here to make people uneasy. To force reactions. To corner the mastermind.
The firefighters noticed me as soon as I entered their area. Their gaze shifted to me as their talk ceased. Some looked at each other and muttered to themselves.
One of them then moved forward. "Who are you?"
A few steps away, I came to a stop and slipped my gloved hands into the pockets of my coat. I said, "Mr. Dust," with ease. "Detective."
A ripple of confusion ran through them. A few looked between each other, clearly recognizing the name. One of them—a broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard, similar to Chief Ryan—tilted his head. "Wait… you mean like Mr. Fox?"
The reaction was predictable. Expected.
I let out a quiet chuckle. "We're acquainted," I said simply.
That was all they were getting.
Some of them relaxed a little, but others remained skeptical. That was fine.
I turned my gaze to the group, scanning each of them before finally speaking again. "I'm here to investigate the real mastermind behind this."
The shift in the room was instant.
Some looked outright baffled. Others frowned. But the reaction that stood out the most? David and Logan.
Logan's hand twitched slightly at his side, his fingers adjusting his sleeves. A small tell.
David… he kept his expression controlled, but his stance shifted slightly—feet a little more firmly planted, like he was preparing for something.
That was all I needed.
One of the young, most likely rookie firefighters said, "Wait," with wrinkled brows. "Hasn't Mr. Fox discovered them already? We said it was Sasha."
I gave a nod. "And he was correct. Sasha was a participant." I waited for the silence to subside before moving on, letting my eyes move over them. "She wasn't the one behind it, though. She was instead merely an accomplice, probably coerced into it.
More whispers.
After that, I gave David and Logan my whole attention.
"One of you two is the real mastermind," I remarked with a level voice.
The response came instantly.
Some firefighters stiffened. A few turned toward David and Logan, their expressions ranging from confusion to outright disbelief.
Logan furrowed his brows. "That's ridiculous," he said, his voice calm but firm.
David, meanwhile, laughed—a quick, almost too casual chuckle. "You serious?" He gestured to himself. "You think I set all this up?"
I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I let the weight of my words sink in.
Then, with deliberate ease, I lifted my gloved hand out of my pocket with my I.D.
"I'm a B-Rank detective," I said. "With four active skills." I tilted my head slightly. "Do you really think I'd make accusations if I wasn't confident in them?"
That shut them up.
A few of the firefighters exchanged uneasy glances. They didn't want to believe it, but doubt was creeping in.
Then, from the back of the group, someone spoke up.
"Couldn't Mr. Fox be a suspect too?"
I turned my head toward the voice. A middle-aged man, arms crossed, watching me carefully. "He showed up out of nowhere, accused Sasha, and disappeared," he continued. "That's… kind of suspicious, don't you think?"
I considered that for a moment.
To someone outside the case, it would be suspicious. A masked man appears, reveals the culprit, and vanishes. And with my current disguise, I wasn't exactly making myself seem less mysterious.
But then, something clicked.
Nobody knew anything about Mr. Fox.
Nobody knew anything about Mr. Dust.
Or any future masked identities I might take on.
I had the option to be as vague as possible.
I tilted my head and hummed softly. "After finishing his task, Mr. Fox departed. That is all there is to it. Furthermore, why would Mr. Fox have proposed using the security tape in the first place if he were the mastermind?
The firefighter hesitated.
I kept my tone neutral. "A guilty man wouldn't invite more scrutiny. He wouldn't lead you straight to evidence."
That logic was simple, but effective.
Then—
"How do you know we used the security footage?"
David's voice.
Calm. Measured.
But there was something underneath it. Something subtle.
I met his gaze.
For just a fraction of a second, I considered my answer.
I could say Sasha told me during interrogation. I could say the police informed me. I could even say Mr. Fox himself passed the information along.
All of them were valid alibis.
So I chose the simplest one.
"The police had access to the footage," I said. "I saw it there."
Silence.
Then, reluctantly, David nodded. He didn't push further. He couldn't—not when the footage was literally handed over in front of everyone.
The tension in the air was thick, the weight of my presence fully settling over the station.
Good.
It was time to move things along.
I exhaled, adjusting my gloves. "Set up an interrogation room," I said smoothly. "While I investigate the area."
A few of them still seemed uncertain, but they didn't argue.
Slowly, the firefighters dispersed—some heading inside, others watching me from a distance.
I turned and made my way toward the lockers.
Methodically, I started checking them.
One by one.
Until I got to David's locker. I opened it, my eyes scanning the contents and I saw two lighters.
One used. Burnt edges, flicked on and off multiple times.
The other?
Almost untouched.
Half full.
I stared at them for a moment, my fingers brushing over the newer one.
Fire. Arson.
This couldn't just be some coincidence. David, what have you been up to?
I slipped the lighter back into place, my mind already working through the possibilities.
The case was starting to crack...
And I was about to blow it wide open.