“Mirae!” A young woman's voice was echoing around the youthful detective's mind as she let herself be slowly consumed by exhaustion. Her heavy eyes being seduced to close and drift to a world far far away.

She could hear voices gently singing to her, like a lullaby dragging her deeper into a sea of abandon,

But suddenly.

A loud slap unexpectedly woke her up.

She could feel a pulsating pain on her cheek forcibly pulling her out of her almost trance like state.

“Wake up detective!" The young woman's voice  transformed itself from a small echo that hazily travelled in the detective's dreams into a booming declaration worthy of a king.

Mirae was now fully awake, the young woman, her new assistant across her willing to slap her again if necessary.

“I'm awake! Stop!" She begged the agitated assistant. “You were falling asleep again Ms.Seong! I reminded you to rest at a reasonable hour last night, haven't I?!" The detective pinched the bridge of her nose and shouted back. “I was busy! Thank you very much!”

“That sleep schedule would ruin your skin care routine you know?!” The assistant’s agitation was starting to boil but she ultimately realized that her “superior” is not gonna take any of this seriously. "Did you just say that 'cause I'm Korean?" Mirae asked but was immediately cut off, “Or what if you get into a gun fight?” The assistant tried her best to remedy the situation although it is as effectiive as putting a wet floor sign on a flooded area.

“I’m a homicide detective. Remember?” Mirae promptly answered causing her assistant to simply sigh. “We don’t do that.” She added. “Hmph. You could at least not sleep on the job!” The assistant complained as she crossed her arms in an effort to look intimidating. “I'm pretty sure the higher ups don't give a damn. Just look at my desk.” There were 2 stacks of paper on the detective desk, one was extremly tall and one was rather short, only 4-6 files, the assistant estimated. "The taller stack were cases the Liutenant told me to drop." Point taken. As much as the assistant hated the thought, she knew Mirae was right. It wasn't necessarily the detective's or her's fault but she couldn't help but still feel guilty, useless even, She quietly went back to her desk and sulked.

‘Why did I choose this place?’ She thought.

The detective now seemed to be at least slightly awake, methodically shuffling through all the paperworks (yes even the ones she was told to drop) lazily piled on her desk. There’s only one that caught her attention, a file she simply nabbed off of one of her coworkers, about one “Monica Sinclair”

“Can you drive?" Mirae went to her assistant and dropped her car keys on the woman's desk. “Can we please be more professional about this?" The assistant pleaded with disinterested eyes. Mirae couldn't help but slam at the desk with a sarcastic grin causing her assistant to be taken aback. “So I guess slapping is considered professional now huh?" The assistant merely groaned as she reluctantly took the keys on her desk and lead the sleepy detective to the parking lot.

They both entered the car with an awkward atmosphere surrounding them, amplifying the sounds of the doors closing as well as the sounds of fastening seat belts. “What?" Mirae asked as she noticed her assistant observing her in a rather uncomfortable manner. “Nothing really. Have I seen you before? Like outside of the force I mean" She questioned as she turned the key to start the engine. “In your dreams sugar!” Mirae mused.

“We’re not that close.” The assistant announced hoping to put an end to the conversation that sadly she herself had started.

They reached a small collection of streets known as “The Boxyard” in one of the city’s rather middle classed district, District 7 of the 3rd level, famously named for the fact that most buildings in the area are although not exactly square, are all made up by four sides. They parked in front of a moderately sized apartment complex composed of 8 floors and quite a few rooms. 

The ground floor actually looked classy, modeled after interiors on the early 2000s or like a classic apartment in the city of New York, an era long passed but an aesthetic still appreciated till this time. Supposedly it was meant to be an escape from the sensory overload just outside this doors. There was still a television though just right around the corner.

The “receptionist” of sorts was behind a corner. He was a rather large man with gruff hair and tan skin, seemed to be on his early 40s. He saw the two and immediately knew.

“Badges?” He asked. The two complied and took out their badges swiftly to show him. He simply nodded and said “You better find the bastard who did this.” This sent shivers down Mirae’s spine. “This man must have known the girl well” she thought. They both went upstairs and went to the alleged scene of the crime/event. Police tape was on the entrance of both the living room as well as the girl’s bedroom but it wasn’t hard to get through. The place was rather clean despite all the reports. Seemed like a cozy apartment with an industrial and an even 50s noir feel to it’s interior, the girl’s room was rather different though.Very fitting for their era but still with a few blasts from the past, like graffiti and the sort even some neon signs from old bars. She also owned quite the computer setup as well as a few instruments.

There were two other policemen on the scene and was rather not happy to see the young detective.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“This isn’t your job Seong. It’s a fucking suicide, just quit already.” One said with an extremely rude tone. Mirae just laughed it off and entered the girl’s room anyways with gloves on and her dyed jet black hair tied in a pony tail. 

There was a suicide note on the table placed inside a ziplock bag but still kept on the same exact spot. There was a thing about disappearing, to just leave her body alone or something of the sort. It matched the girl’s handwriting and was written in a way that didn’t elicit any sort of aggression, terror, tension, or hurry. It was calm almost as if it was thought through and that just didn’t seem right. The most aggravating detail though is the lack of a body in sight. They’ve searched the area high and low and left no stone unturned but still no sign of the elusive “Monica Sinclair”. 

The assistant was still outside of the girl’s room trying to reason with the two policemen as Mirae continued to search around. Inside the closet she saw an old uniform from a rather prestigious school as well as a letter of expulsion hidden inside it’s pockets. The assistant finally entered the scene, just as intrigued as her superior. She was looking all throughout the room, she first saw a calendar, it was such an odd sight considering most would just check their mobile phone, visor, or holograms but what caught her attention was the date of the girl's supposed death, circled with a red marker. 

"So she was planning this wasn't she?" The assistant absentmindedly uttered as she continued to look, on the girl's study desk was a family photo, consisting of a beautiful middle aged woman with blonde hair, and what the assistant assumed are her children. One was a young man with brown hair, didn’t get much from his mother. The second one though presumably the youngest, is a blonde teenage girl with blue eyes, the resemblance to her mother almost striking yet different.

Mirae pointed at the teenage girl and said;

“That’s Monica Sinclair.”

The assistant’s eyes shot wide as she finally got a grasp of this case.

“Isn’t she?!” She exclaimed.

Mirae nodded and took out the expulsion letter. She showed it to her assistant stealthily as she heard footsteps slowly getting louder, the floor lightly shaking.

“Yes, she’s the girl from two years ago. The one who spoke about a rebellion.”

Before she could say any more, one of the policemen from earlier barged into the room with a face that showed clear intent.

“You’re going too far Detective Seong.”

Mirae immediately slipped the letter into her pockets, her other hand on her back preparing to get the gun underneath her coat. 

“You know you really shouldn’t be here.” The policeman said in quiet anger.

The assistant was starting to feel uneasy looking from side to side trying to find an exit, but instead she saw…

A policeman slouched on the couch dyed in red.

The assistant pushed Mirae away as the policeman attempted to shoot her. Mirae immediately reached for her gun as the man ran outside the room and rolled behind cover. She tried to shoot but misses his head by an inch. Mirae followed shooting again but misses hitting a vase instead. The policeman shot another missing Mirae’s arm, piercing through her sleeve.

Mirae had enough of this.

As the policeman reloaded his gun, Mirae ran at him at full speed, pushing him down with her whole weight as she used her arm to incapacitate him as well as her legs to prevent him from struggling. He tried his darn hardest to wriggle out of his predicament but no luck. He lost consciousness as Mirae sighed in relief. She pushed him off and handcuffed him. She took his gun and placed it inside another ziplock bag.

The assistant finally reappeared trembling and Mirae was quite happy to see her.

“Wow you were a lot of help.” 

“Oh shit, sorry, that sounded sarcastic."

"What I meant to say was, thanks for saving me."

Mirae gave her a mischievous smile but a look of certain appreciation, impressed even but the assistant couldn’t resist one last retort.

“I thought you don’t get into gun fights.”

“Shut up.”

After 30 minutes or so, the cavalry arrived and was able to take the man away. The two decided to wind down a little as they park their car near a food truck. They ordered a few meals and decided to eat inside for a little privacy. Mirae turned off her com system and turned to her assistant.

“So the deal is, Barbara.” Mirae sneaked in a few words before biting her taco, she immediately shot up in happiness as she got to it, her assistant on the other hand wasn’t quite amused by the fact that her name was forgotten...yet again.

“Elizabeth. Greene.” The assistant sarcastically uttered. Not wanting the detective to forget it again.

"Sure, Cecilia, anyways I have reason to believe that Monica Sinclair’s death might not be just some common suicide.” Mirae said sleepily still fixated on her taco.

“Obviously.” Elizabeth murmured before taking a bite off of her own lunch. This immediately got Mirae’s attention making her give out a sly smile.

“Great! Expected no less from you.” Mirae asked cheeks filled with taco. “Dang this is really good.”

Elizabeth finally felt her ego slowly rising up only to be; “You really shouldn’t tremble out of a fight though. We’ll work on that.” to be torn back down again. She felt a heavy sigh about to come out but before she could; “I understand, don’t worry about it” Mirae said as she finished the last of her taco, licking her fingers clean. Elizabeth had a weight inside her chest leave as the detective looked deep into her eyes with a type of gentleness that almost didn't fit her image.

“But you have to know…” Mirae looked away and directed her eyes on the road as cars of all sizes and colors passed it. “I have a feeling this’ll be dangerous. Do you still plan on staying?” There was a serious atmosphere that circulated all throughout that small air conditioned car.

“I bet you 60 bucks I could at least last a year.” Elizabeth broke the silence with the worst reply she could think of, causing Mirae to laugh hysterically. “I bet 100 if you last at least 3 months!” Mirae shouted in between her bouts of maniacal cackling. “Ha! You’re on.” Elizabeth started to laugh along as she shook Mirae’s hand. Mirae was now looking back at her with an almost childish expression. She still ended up driving Mirae back home though and keeping the car for herself for the night.

She entered her apartment greeted by her dog. She threw the car keys on her dresser and flopped down to her bed like a majestic seal but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t sleep. She did everything, from milk, to counting sheep but nothing seemed to work. 

“Deja vu huh?” Elizabeth turned her laptop on with a thought ceaselessly running through her head; one “Monica Sinclair”