Renji..
1689 Words
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I placed a cup of macchiato in front of him.
"You were always so good at studying. I didn’t expect you to open a café," he said, not meeting my eyes.
He looked... rough. His hair was a mess, like it hadn’t been washed in days. He wore an oversized polo shirt, baggy pants, and black flip-flops. If not for the expensive necklace around his neck, he might’ve looked homeless.
That necklace. I had always loved it when we were kids. Back in elementary school, we saved up money to buy one for me too, but the bullies took it before I even got to wear it. It wasn’t stolen by strangers—it was taken from me right in front of my eyes.
For Renji to have this exact design now... he must be doing well financially. Or had he spent his life savings on it?
I pushed the thought aside.
"I had to drop out of college. You should know why...."
He studied my face. "The bullies?"
"Yeah. Some of them ended up at the same college. You know how it was."
Renji had been my childhood friend, my flatmate, my everything. We did almost everything together—attended the same elementary school, got bullied together. I was bullied for being too smart. He was bullied for being Japanese.
Then, one day in our second year of high school, he left. No warning. No goodbye. Just... gone.
I resented him for that. After everything, after all our promises, he left me alone.
"You left without a word," I said, my voice quiet.
"I’m really sorry. I wanted to, but..."
"You don’t have to explain. It’s been ages." I forced a small smile. "So, what are you doing back in the country?"
"I travel a lot. Work brought me here," he said, but there was something in his eyes—an emotion I couldn’t quite place. Or maybe I didn’t want to.
"I see... you’ve changed a lot. You used to hate traveling. You said you’d avoid it at all costs." I shook my head, letting out a small laugh. "And smoking? You used to despise it."
His expression softened. "I missed you."
The café fell silent.
I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise. "Renji?"
"I searched for you... after two years of leaving. But you had already moved out. Even after I became an Detective, every time I tried to look you up, something blocked me. Then, when I arrived for the investigation, you were the first person that came to mind." His words tumbled out quickly as he reached for my hand.
I slowly pulled it away.
He sighed. "I’m sorry."
I glanced at him, my mind racing. "You’re a Detective? I thought you were into music..."
"I—" His phone rang, interrupting him.
"Excuse me…"
"You can pick it up," I said.
Renji stood up, swiping the green button to answer.
"Mr. Renji, we found something about Ms. Charlotte's death…"
My ears rang. Charlotte? The one I know?
"I'll be there," he said quickly.
And just like that—he rushed off. No goodbye, no explanation, just gone. Typical. I almost cursed under my breath.
Just as he stepped out, Giovanni walked in, barely acknowledging him—until Renji ran past.
Giovanni turned his head, watching him disappear down the hall. His brows furrowed.
"Why is he here?" he muttered, his expression darkening.
As soon as I entered, Mira handed me a stack of papers and greeted me with her usual unending chatter.
She was quick to get to the point.
"Charlotte Kim," she began, "wasn’t always Charlotte Kim. She used to be known as Jisoo Kang."
I frowned. The name sounded familiar. It was common enough—maybe it was a mix-up.
Mira continued, "She was the leader of a notorious bully group in M.K. High School—a prestigious and well-known school. She targeted middle-class students, especially those who got in on scholarships."
A strange feeling crept into my stomach.
"It wasn’t until she was nearly done with high school that she found out she was actually the only daughter of the King family," Mira went on. "She was brought into their home, and her life changed overnight. To cover up her past as a bully, she became an actress. The public saw her as righteous and well-mannered, but behind the scenes, she had undergone plastic surgery before entering the industry. She even changed her name to Charlotte Kim."
I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. My jaw dropped.
I knew her. Everybody who attended M.K. High knew her.
She wasn’t just a bully—she was the bully.
Me and Aurora? We were her dogs. We did whatever she told us to do. Eat food from the trash? We did it. And I danced in nothing but boxers in front of the whole school.
How had I not recognized her?
She treated me like garbage. She traumatized me. And yet… I had paid my respects to her dead body.
If I weren’t a Detective, I’d have said, I’m glad she was killed.
Mira's voice snapped me back.
"We also found out something else," she said, handing me another paper. "Every person who has been murdered so far… was a student from M.K. High."
My fingers clenched around the list of names.
"Then the culprit…" I exhaled sharply. "Might be from the school."
I looked up at Mira. "Get me a full list of students from the Class A of 2016. Now.
(Renji’s POV)
I was returning from the grocery store, a carton of milk in hand to soothe my throat. I had smoked too much today.
When I reached my car, I was still waiting for Mira to bring me more information about the case we were investigating. I unlocked the door and slid in, but as soon as I did, my eyes landed on something strange—a plastic cup of drip coffee sitting in the cup holder.
It was cold.
Not just room temperature, but the kind of cold that comes from something that had defrosted.
I frowned. Shouldn’t coffee be hot? Or at least warm?
Still, I shrugged it off. I was thirsty.
I opened my carton of milk and poured it into the cup, watching the swirl of white mix into the dark liquid. I put the lid back on, gave it a little shake, then took a long gulp.
Bitter. But the milk softened it.
I tossed the empty cup into a nearby bin, barely thinking about it. Just then, a recycling truck pulled up, its mechanical arm lifting the bin and swallowing its contents.
Just another routine pickup.
Mira arrived moments later, a file slung under her arm. But instead of greeting me, she rushed forward, frantically searching my car.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
She spun to face me, eyes wide. "Did you see the coffee in the plastic bag?"
"Yeah," I said. "I drank it."
Her mouth dropped open. "Tell me you didn’t."
"I did."
She staggered back. "That coffee was evidence." Her voice cracked. "It was part of the investigation!"
My frown deepened. "Where’s the cup?" she demanded.
"I threw it away." I pointed toward the truck that was already turning the corner. "The recycling truck took it right after."
Mira let out a strangled noise before collapsing to her knees, sobbing in the middle of the lot.
I reached out to her, confused, but she slapped my hands away.
"How could you drink it?" she choked out. "It wasn’t even hot! It was cold—cold drip coffee!"
I hesitated. "Yeah, but—"
"Didn’t you think it was weird? A random cup of coffee in your car?"
I blinked. Shrugged. "You’re the only one with my car key."
Mira let out a broken cry, burying her face in her hands.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration creeping in. "But I didn’t find this at the crime scene," I muttered.
Mira’s head snapped up. Her eyes were red, but burning with fury. "That’s because you only looked at the corpse and the surroundings! Not the fridge or anything else!" she yelled, voice breaking.
I clenched my jaw. "Because I was told to find the cause of death—the corpse, not a damn coffee cup." My voice was even, but tension laced my words. "And by the look of the surroundings, it’s clear you won’t find any traces of the killer. He or she is a professional. You guys are the ones expected to do the rest—find leads and bring them to me."
Mira stared at me, breathing hard, hands trembling. She started her second round of tears.
I exhaled sharply, my stomach twisting.
Damn. What the hell kind of situation did I just put myself in?
*****
Giovanni’s POV
I was just returning from the crime scene, a rare sense of satisfaction settling in my chest. I would see her again.
Even after just a few hours apart, the thought of her sent a tingling sensation through my heart.
As I approached her shop—hidden away in that secluded part of town—I pulled my hood lower over my cap, adjusting the face mask that covered my nose. But just as my fingers curled around the door handle, my entire body stiffened.
That scent.
That bloody, metallic scent.
Him.
My jaw clenched. My hands curled into tight fists.
Renji.
That bastard was always there, sniffing around, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. No matter how many times I tried to wipe his presence from her life—online or otherwise—he kept coming back.
"I missed you," I heard him say.
My stomach boiled with rage. How dare he?
He was trying to steal what was mine.
The faint smile I had worn faded instantly. My fists tightened at my sides. He mustn’t notice me. I took a step back, forcing myself into the shadows. But as I was about to turn away, he walked right past me.
Without even acknowledging me.
My blood burned.
- Writer
