After That, Someone Else Showed Up
"After that, someone else came, and I was sent on a mission. I didn't have time to buy the shoes."
In a café on the outskirts of the city, Bazt and Margaret were on a date. The girl loved to talk.
"I see. You should've just reserved them," said Bazt, in his usual monotonous tone.
Bazt had chosen that place for the date for one reason only.
He was planning to kill his own girlfriend.
It had been two days since he found that mysterious note in his locker. He didn't know who left it, but one thing was certain:
It was one of his coworkers. And the moment he found out who it was, he would end them without hesitation.
Following that line of thought, his first suspect had to be someone with enough skill to figure him out.
"Hey, don't be so cruel. Those were my favorite shoes!" Margaret complained, grabbing another piece of cake with a pout.
That person was his own girlfriend. Margaret, a top-level detective.
Bazt studied her in silence, searching for a crack. To the average eye, Margaret might seem clumsy or carefree, but not to someone like Bazt.
[No clues.]
That's all he could think as he analyzed her gestures and body language.
That's why he had picked a place far from the city. If this whole thing turned out to be some sort of trap set by Margaret to catch him, he would kill her and toss her body into the sea.
Margaret noticed his distant stare and, annoyed, flicked his forehead, pulling him out of his trance.
"Hey, are you even listening to me? You're acting weird today. Do you have another girl or something?" she joked playfully.
Bazt smiled. He ruled Margaret out as the culprit—but he was still going to use her for intel.
He took her hand like a passionate lover and looked her straight in the eyes.
"I was lost in thought... thinking about your beauty," he said in a charming voice.
Margaret blushed and looked away. She was already in his trap.
"Hey Margaret, you're good at reading people… Do you think anyone at work hates me?"
A trap question. Bazt was going to use his girlfriend as a source of information.
Margaret took a moment to think, then raised a finger triumphantly.
"Yeah, there are quite a few who can't stand you. Let me tell you who they are and why, handsome."
***
"Good morning, everyone."
The next day, Bazt walked into the office like usual.
"Good morning… Hey, what happened to your clothes?" asked Smith, raising an eyebrow.
For someone known for wearing outdated, worn-out suits, showing up in a sharp, high-end outfit was… odd.
A turquoise blue suit, white silk gloves soft as clouds, and a hat adorned with gems. It was like fashion—but in the worst possible way.
Bazt ignored the question and focused his gaze on someone in the back: Agent Sams, sipping coffee.
[Agent Sams is the one who hates you the most in the office.]
[He says you're arrogant and hates people like you.]
Those had been Margaret's words about his next main suspect.
He hated spending money on a suit he didn't even like, but if it made his target hate him more, it would push him to act.
And in that moment, Bazt would kill him.
Calculating every step, he approached Sams under the excuse of getting a coffee.
"Oh, so now you think you're a model or something?" Sams shot with venom.
"Maybe. Being a stylish detective adds a little charm, don't you think?" Bazt replied coolly.
"Right... have fun playing dress-up. I've got real work to do." Sams took his mug and walked back to his desk.
Bazt felt the hate in his tone but let out a quiet sigh.
Sams wasn't the one.
If Sams had written the note, with his impulsive nature, he would've exposed himself by now.
So no matter how much he hated Bazt—he was off the list.
Wasting no time, Bazt went to the criminal investigations and records room. There was his second target.
"Wow, you guys are working hard in here. Got any coffee?"
He walked in, grabbing everyone's attention. The room was filled with computers, files, and people deep into everyone's lives.
"Oh, look who it is… Mr. 'I'm so perfect I don't need your help.'"
An old man in a long lab coat approached him. Just the man he was looking for.
[Agent Luck. He's pissed at you ever since you called him useless.]
A more reasonable lead. After all, Luck was an expert in gathering information. If anyone could've found out his secret—it was him.
"Hey, Luck. I'm looking into a case. I think it's connected to Smile X."
Bazt watched closely. If Luck was the one behind the note, even a subtle reaction to Smile X should give it away.
And if he saw even the slightest crack—he would cut the man's brake lines without hesitation.
"Oh, are you here to joke around? You know better than anyone Smile X disappeared five years ago. We don't know anything new."
But Luck didn't flinch. Not even a twitch.
"Yeah, Bazt. Let us do our jobs in peace," added a young man in a lab coat, with glasses and dark circles under his eyes. That was Milo, Margaret's trusted researcher.
"Why don't you go get some sleep, Milo?" Bazt said with a mocking tone.
"Just go already, Bazt!" snapped Stacy, another exhausted agent and known prodigy.
"Alright, alright, I'm going."
Reluctantly, Bazt left the room and let out a sigh as he returned to his office.
He knew it was pointless. Whoever had written the note was smart. They wanted something. That's why they hadn't exposed him.
So it couldn't be someone who hated him. It had to be the opposite.
Which is why he asked Margaret who admired him the most at work.
"You seriously don't have any work to do?" Bazt asked as he stepped into the next office.
"Nope… What do you want? A raise?" replied Alicia as she painted her nails.
[Alicia is your number one fan. She always speaks highly of you.]
"Want to go grab a few drinks?" Bazt asked with his signature charismatic smile.
Maybe… Alicia would die today.