To Hastur’s right in the bushes, Finnian wore an odd tinge of regret. He clenched his empty left fist. “That’s the Chief Commissioner out of Police Headquarters. Sticks to the Military District usually… What brings him to Phoenix?”
His old contact’s odd move nagged him. After hunkering longer amid the foliage, Finnian turned to Hastur. “Need the dirt on his business here. Way to cloak us and slip inside?”
Hastur caught a whiff of hidden task. “Stick tight.”
Mental pollution rippled outward, weaving a compact chaos veil around Hastur and Finnian.
They slunk along the path to the station doors. At an office window edging the first floor, they glimpsed Dustin. Opposite the detective sat a furious old codger railing away:
“…I warned you! No shortcuts to glory! Listen? Hell no! Some Phoenix beat cop barges into Nuri District, nabs a guy, then swaggers him straight into the Nuri District Branch!”
“What’re you playing at, Dustin? Eh? What? Dying to shine for the brass? Promotion itch that bad?”
Hastur halted. “I think I want to—”
“Nope.” Finnian clamped Hastur down. “Pointless. Dustin’s blowing it off. That glazed stare? Classic. Dragged him to classical lit readings—he’d always slack in back, glued to Minesweeper.”
Finnian wheedled patiently. “That near-corpse fossil? Irrelevant. That fox from before? Priority. We tail hi—huh?”
Past the sill, the office door swung wide. The Chief Commissioner stormed in, face thunderous. “What’s this?”
“…” The Deputy Chief’s rant jammed mid-breath.
Mouth agape in shock, seconds later his mug switched to an obsequious grin. He vaulted from behind the desk. “Chief Commissioner! You in Phoenix? This late?”
“Out. Door behind you.” The Chief Commissioner commanded icily, claiming the desk chair in strides.
He ignored the Deputy Chief’s souring scowl, zeroing on Dustin. “You—the detective who dropped Nolly Qianning at the Nuri District Branch?”
“…” Dustin blazed through mental Minesweeper.
Finnian itched to chuck a dirt clod. Hastur eyed the antsy underling and obligingly flicked a mental tentacle at Dustin’s brow.
“Hiss—” Dustin jolted alert, staring at the desk. “…Chief Commissioner?”
When’d he switch?
Bewildered, he eyed the twisting-faced Deputy Chief beside him, then the man at the desk. He popped up reflexively. “Sorry—making way—”
“Way for what?” The Chief Commissioner’s brow knotted severely. “Answering me, Detective Dustin. —You still here?”
That moment, the Deputy Chief’s glare at Dustin dripped venom. Boss watching, though—he slunk out resentfully, door banging shut.
The Chief Commissioner refocused on Dustin. “Nolly Qianning. Your delivery to Nuri District Branch?”
“Er… yeah. Issue?” Dustin stiffened.
Curtly, the Chief Commissioner intoned: “Dead. Nolly Qianning. Two hours back.”
“—?!”
Shock rippled through those inside and outside the window alike.
Hastur murmured to Finnian: “Nolly never knew his partners. G8273 hit dead ends tracing them. Why silence him now?”
Inside, Dustin puzzled likewise: “Silencing hit?”
“No.” The Chief Commissioner countered. “Hired kill? I’d not be here. No missing persons file on my desk.”
He rose. “Netinfo Department got wind of the arrest. Deemed it ‘cybercrime’—their turf. Demanded branch hand him over.”
“But the Branch Police Station’s commissioner refused to hand him over, so the Netinfo Department directly hacked into Nolly’s brain core for interrogation. That sparked a conflict with the station’s cybersecurity team—”
“Nolly’s brain core got fried in the ‘conflict,’ turning his brain into a lump of charred remains.”
“…” Hastur wasn’t hearing about this kind of rotten luck for the first time. Considering he’d previously promised that toad freak revenge on Nolly’s behalf, this outcome could be seen as fulfilling that vow.
Dustin, however, wasn’t taking it so lightly. As the Chief Commissioner gave his summary, Dustin’s face grew darker and darker.
“How could they do something like that? Turn a suspect’s brain into a battlefield? And he’s a criminal tied to unsolved missing persons cases!”
“What if the key to finding those missing people was locked inside him? What if his memories held a crucial clue he himself didn’t even realize was there?”
“This isn’t the first time,” the Chief Commissioner said, his gaze on Dustin turning faintly surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to encounter someone whose edges hadn’t yet been dulled by harsh reality.
“Truth be told, the Netinfo Department’s meddling is exactly why I’m here tonight.”
“What?” Dustin didn’t follow. He frowned and looked up at the Chief Commissioner.
The Chief Commissioner let out a deep sigh.
“Twenty-three years ago, before the Ghost War sparked by the AIs, the Netinfo Department was just like the Police Stations—elite forces under direct government control and deployment.”
“But after the Ghost War, that information agency started going rogue, even vying for power with the government itself. These days, it’s practically a second government and a second Police Station rolled into one.”
Finnian turned his face toward Hastur and whispered, “Calling it a second Police Station is being generous.”
“Twenty-three years on, and the Police Stations have had it the worst.”
“The government and the Netinfo Department divvy up turf between High Pei Street and Company HQ, while the Total Police Station gets booted straight out of downtown… off to set up shop in some so-called Military District.”
Finnian tsked. “Might as well call it the ‘No Boys Allowed District.’”
The Chief Commissioner’s sharp eyes fixed on Dustin. “Because of the Netinfo Department’s interference, this case isn’t just a simple missing persons investigation anymore. It’s turned into a turf war between the Police Stations and the Netinfo Department.”
“I need you to uncover the truth behind it all—before they do. Can you manage that?”
“…” Dustin’s pale blue eyes locked onto the Chief Commissioner. He probably hadn’t imagined being handed such a heavy responsibility not for the sake of justice, but departmental rivalry.
Regardless of the reason, the Chief Commissioner’s backing would ensure smooth sailing across districts, with full support from the branches. “I’ll do everything I can.”
“Good.” The Chief Commissioner gave him a slight nod of approval. “Then starting today, you’re the Deputy Chief of this Police Station building in Phoenix District. I hope the handover with your predecessor outside won’t get too ugly.”
“…???”
Question marks practically popped up over everyone’s heads, inside and out.
Dustin and Finnian were thinking, “Wait, getting promoted to inspector would be normal enough, but straight to Deputy Chief?? Is Deputy Chief some kind of after-dinner mint they hand out to anyone?”
Hastur’s thought was: Excellent! Detective Dustin’s career is finally looking up!
Right on cue, the System chimed in with a celebratory jingle.
【Task: [I Once Swore to the Medal] · One (Completed!)】
【One small step today is one giant leap tomorrow! The path to promotion never ends—why not double down?】
【Task Reward: Police Academy Dorm Interior available free for a limited time (24-hour countdown)】
Hastur, who had never spent a single extra credit on his dorm and stuck strictly to the “room-bed-desk” layout: “?”
What? Dorms had “interiors” this whole time?
What did they even do?
Hastur tapped into the Building Interface’s interiors section following the prompt (a section he’d never bothered with before) and randomly selected one to check out.
【Military Training Industrial Pipeline:
Coated in subdued gray paint for a sturdy, no-nonsense look, this industrial pipeline is as tough and unyielding as its aesthetic suggests.
(Special Property: Indestructible)】
Hastur: “!”
What! How had he never noticed something this useful before?
—Not that he’d have bought it back then anyway. But now things were different. Thanks to Detective Dustin’s promotion grind, the indestructible interior series was free for a limited time!
Talk about a lifesaver when everything else was going to hell—Hastur immediately scrolled through the interiors tab and gave the Orphanage a full makeover, fixing all the damage from the pipeline explosion.
When he looked up again, the Chief Commissioner was eyeing Dustin with arms folded. “No need to look so shocked, Dustin.”
“Being Deputy Chief in Phoenix District is basically exile. You should ask around Total Police Station—who’d actually want the job? Only that useless old coot outside is clinging to it like grim death.”
“I’d go so far as to suggest that if you crack Nolly’s case wide open, you should think about transferring to the Total Station in the Military District…”
“I’ve reviewed your file. Since joining, the number of cases you’ve handled and closed puts you at the top of Phoenix District’s Branch Station. You’ll waste away stuck here. Do you really want to spend your whole career holed up in a dump like this?”
“…” Hastur’s floating yellow robe paused mid-drift, his muddy yellow eyes turning toward Dustin’s face.
The Police Station’s harsh white fluorescent lights illuminated Dustin’s features perfectly—the fleeting hesitation that crossed them, followed by rock-solid resolve.
“I don’t think Total Police Station is missing out on one more officer like me. But Phoenix District… it needs me here.”
“So yes, Chief Commissioner. Over the Military District, I’d rather stay in Phoenix District.”
“…” The Chief Commissioner’s expression bordered on outright astonishment. His gray eyes studied Dustin intently once more before he dropped his arms and faced him with utterly solemn posture.
“You’re a noble man, Dustin.”
“Nine years ago, I never would have said something like this. But now I mean it—stay noble.”
Familiar words. Dustin had said something similar to Hastur once.
Hastur noticed Finnian suddenly tense up beside him, like a provoked leopard, though the tension faded as quickly as it had come.
The previous Deputy Chief had already slunk away, face ashen. Dustin politely declined a few more offers from the Chief Commissioner, turned down any special perks, and saw him out to his car.
The specially plated police cruiser soon sped away. Finnian popped out of the bushes like nothing had happened, dashed to the motorcycle in a few strides, and shoved the three-time-conscious, four-time-knocked-out Borg into Dustin’s arms.
“Our promotion gift for you from the Dean and me—stick him in your little prison.”
“?” Dustin glanced sideways and spotted an egg yolk jellyfish peeking out from behind the bushes. The weight of the Chief Commissioner’s meeting lifted a bit from the absurd sight.
Hastur shot a few looks at the unflappable Finnian but, respecting his privacy, didn’t pry. Instead, he floated over with genuine encouragement to hype up Dustin…
“Even if the Netinfo Department runs wild and the Chief Commissioner cares more about power than truth or lives, it might not be all bad. It just cleared a wider path for your promotions.”
“…??” Dustin caught the subtext in Hastur’s words but could hardly believe it.
Hastur spread the motivation around, turning to the other one. “You need to step it up too. Ith—”
“Headed home?” Finnian cut Hastur off before he could finish. “Dustin can ride shotgun.”
It was almost magical—emotions that should have weighed him down for ages evaporated at the sight of his companions bickering.
Once Dustin had dealt with Borg and settled into the back seat, he leaned against Finnian’s solid back, watching Hastur’s billowing yellow robe. For a moment, an illusion gripped him:
Infinite power welled up inside, as if with friends like these at his side, he could climb to unimaginable heights.
The motorcycle lifted into the air. Amid the wind, he heard Finnian ramble on: “…You know what else lightening the other parts does? —I can mount weapons on Arthur!”
The Police Station, the world, all the rotten stuff—it all fell far behind.
He saw Hastur unobtrusively using mental tentacles to yank his hood tight on the sidecar, dodging Finnian’s endless chatter.
A few minutes later, Finnian’s words dissolved into pure exhilaration—laughs and whoops lost in the speed and gale.
It was a journey so perfect that Dustin figured even in his old age, he’d revisit the memory over and over. When the motorcycle finally touched down, he almost hated to get off.
Hastur and Finnian weren’t so sentimental. The second it landed, very real problems crashed back into focus:
Basement. Corpse. Blood writing.
Hastur floated into the house first, locking eyes with Ithaqua, who was yawning his way to the kitchen for a midnight snack, a bit hungry after burning so much energy tonight.
Another very real problem flashed through Hastur’s mind. He immediately drifted toward his foster son. “Have you ever thought about what career you might want in the future?”
He’d already started hyping up the fake kid—how could he neglect the real one?
Ithaqua, clutching a tub of pistachio ice cream with one lick already taken: “…”
Who could understand? Sneaking to the kitchen late at night for a bite, only to get cornered by Dad about career plans.
Ithaqua struggled to swallow the ice cream in his mouth—thanks to the body Mr. G8273 had crafted for him, he could fully savor the delights of food whenever he shifted back to human form.
“I actually did think about it,” he said. “Like… with Nolly’s case before, I felt my detective instincts were pretty sharp, and I really love cracking mysteries! If I get the chance, I’d like to move into criminal investigation down the line.”
Hastur ruffled Ithaqua’s silvery-white hair. The texture wasn’t quite as fluffy as fur, but it was still soft. “Detective, did you hear that—what are you two doing?”
At the orphanage entrance, Dustin and Finnian—who had been about to bring up the basement—both tilted their heads back at the same time, staring up at something.
Hastur floated out curiously for a look. “—Oh. I gave the orphanage a name today.”
Dustin and Finnian both wore expressions like wax melting in warm water.
Everyone at the orphanage knew Lake Hali was warm, and the Dean loved soaking in it.
So if Hastur had named the orphanage “Hali,” did that mean it made him feel warm too? That he liked lingering here?
Dustin pulled back his gaze and flashed Hastur a gentle smile—
“? Got a good look?” Hastur said. “Ready to deal with the corpse now?”
Dustin, whose heart had just brimmed with touching warmth: “—Corpse??? What corpse?!”
Three minutes later.
Dustin stood stone-faced amid heaps of dead cockroaches and rats, staring at the sewage-soaked pile of corpses in front of him. “…”
Hastur, whose knack for reading the room came and went, asked, “Does the police station have any techs who can fix antique computers? You know, that pile of machinery I left in the front yard—you must’ve seen it when you came in.”
Dustin wanted to take a deep breath, but the stench in this hellhole made that impossible. “…I’m afraid not.”
He gave Hastur a sincere look. “Why not ask your dear nemesis? He’d surely help out.”
“?” Hastur blinked, catching on late. “Did I say something to piss you off just now?”
“…” Dustin rubbed his face in frustration. “No. I’m seriously telling you to try contacting G8273.”
“I took a quick scan of that machinery when I walked in—severed wires, busted circuit chips… Even the best repair guy might not get that computer to boot up.”
“G8273’s probably the most qualified person for the job right now.”
Hastur had the perfect excuse to brush it off. “I didn’t get his number. How am I supposed to contact him?”
