It was already past eight in the evening. The room had dimmed without my noticing, and the sky outside the window had deepened to a rich navy. Looking down at street level, Brisbane's cityscape glowed golden with light.

Almost unconsciously, I drifted toward the window, drew the curtains, and switched the chandelier to its warmer evening setting. Even as I moved through my usual routine, my mouth kept running.

"I had a job in Fairfield, and on my way back I stopped somewhere for a drink. The next day was my meeting with Kirk, so yeah—no doubt about it. The night I got carried home was the night of Alan's murder."

"I see." His careful response carried something probing in it. "So you're saying you were with someone at the time of the incident."

"Exactly! Honestly, why did I forget? I haven't blacked out like that since prom."

"Ah, that was a disaster..."

I fell silent at Brian's words. Childhood friends are such a pain at times like this. They stubbornly remember things you've completely forgotten.

"So, about this person you were with—"

"That's the thing. I can't quite remember."

I groaned, trying to conjure the hazy image of my mysterious companion.

"I remember which bar I was at when they approached me. And that they drove me home."

"Don't force it. That's how you create false memories. Do you have the detective's card?"

At his question, I handed over the two business cards I'd stuffed into my card holder. His grayish-blue eyes skimmed across them.

"Inspector Samuel Robinson—ah, Sam. So he got promoted."

"You know him?"

"We know each other's names, that's about it. The other detective's name I don't recognize."

"Detective Nguyen seemed young and mild-mannered."

Brian raised an eyebrow sardonically at my comment.

"I doubt any detective is just mild-mannered. The gentle ones are usually the most cunning."

He muttered this prejudice-laden observation, his eyes now fully those of a detective.

"Anyway, tell Sam you were with someone during that time. Be as accurate as you can about what you've remembered."

"Will the existence of some guy whose face I can't even recall count as an alibi?"

"It won't. But they'll investigate to verify it."

"Will they really investigate properly...?"

"If you're genuinely a suspect, they will. If you've been ruled out, they'll leave it alone—but that would be more peaceful for you anyway."

The logic was sound—but from where I stood, it felt almost too rational. A bit unsatisfying, honestly.

"Aren't you being too optimistic for an ex-cop?"

"Don't play the pessimist only when it suits you."

"When else am I supposed to be pessimistic if not now?"

I shot him a sidelong glare and launched into a litany of possible scenarios.

"What if both detectives are incompetent? So incompetent they can't find any of Alan's acquaintances except me? Or what if they're so fixated on suspecting me that they don't bother with a proper investigation? And even if they do investigate, what if the guy I was with can't be found anywhere? Then they'll think I made him up to fake an alibi. That would look terrible!"

As I demonstrated my impressive pessimism, tBrian, who'd been listening with apparent amusement raised one hand in a leisurely gesture to cut me off.

"Okay, okay, I fully understand your concerns, Holmes. But even if every one of those possibilities came true, there's nothing you can do about it right now. Sit tight."

"Cold-hearted bastard."

"This cold-hearted bastard of a childhood friend dropped everything and came running because a friend called out of nowhere, worried about him. Remember?"

"Ah—sorry, that was my fault..."

Blurting out whatever pops into my head is a bad habit of mine.

Genuinely remorseful, I continued awkwardly.

"I didn't realize you were still working. I thought it was well past quitting time—"

As I said this, I suddenly remembered that his current job was as a private detective. And, completely forgetting the remorse I'd felt three seconds earlier, I blurted out another thought.

"Hey, if I asked you to take on an investigation, would you accept? I'd pay your standard rate, of course. It would really put my mind at ease if you could find out who I was with."

At my proposal, Brian looked momentarily taken aback, then nodded with a serious expression.

"—Alright."

"Huh?"

I'd made the suggestion myself, but I hadn't actually expected him to agree. Startled, I turned my whole body to face him.

"You'll take the job just like that?!"

"I just finished a big case. —What, you look dissatisfied."

"No, no, not at all."

Ha ha ha, I laughed, and Brian narrowed his eyes, crossing his legs with an irritated air.

"Let's start from the beginning, then. Tell me about the case."

"What? The guy I was with has nothing to do with the case!"

"Just in case. You never know when that information might prove useful."

I'd already been wrung dry by the detectives!

"Damn, I'm already regretting this..."

Watching me slump, Brian let out a low chuckle, then returned to his displeased expression and began his questions.

"First, the victim's name and age."

"Alan—I think the detective said Maxwell. Alan Maxwell. I never asked his exact age, but I think he was still in his early twenties."

"Tragic."

A shadow passed through his eyes. The moment I noticed it, it vanished without a trace.

Brian continued.

"When and where did you meet him?"

Honestly, why do all detectives ask the exact same questions?

"About six months ago, I guess. At a gastropub in Spring Hill—their wagyu burger is incredible, by the way—we just happened to hit it off, and that's how it started. After that, we'd meet up two or three times a month for meals."

I rattled this off in one breath, then quietly lifted my coffee to my lips. Brian watched me, then stated flatly:

"You're lying."

"Oh, come on."

I slammed my cup down on the table and raked my fingers through my hair in frustration. Freed from its styling product, my cool blonde hair curled and danced around my fingers.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you!"

"What do you mean, 'didn't want to'? Don't tell pointless lies at a time like this, you idiot!"

"It's not pointless! This isn't just about me."

I looked up sharply and glared at him.

"I made a promise. I have no intention of telling even you."

"You fool..."

Brian let out a bitter groan.

"The name and location of the bar—that's what you lied about. Why would you need to hide that? It's not some... disreputable establishment, is it? A gay bar or..."

I don't know what reaction of mine snagged his instincts. But in that moment, I knew with certainty that Brian had found his answer from my response.

A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes.

"I won't claim prejudice against gay people has disappeared entirely, but is this really a secret worth protecting even after death?"

"...In Alan's case, yes."

"A circumstance so particular that you can't reveal it even to an unrelated third party after he's gone?"

"Don't make light of it. His father was apparently the type who despised homosexuality."

Head hanging with the shame of having failed to keep the secret, I continued.

"You might say it's common enough, but Alan was genuinely terrified of his father. He was like a spy, desperately hiding every trace of being gay."

"Well, I do think it's common enough, but I have no intention of dismissing his fear. The power parents hold over us is something most people understand to some degree."

His tone was matter-of-fact yet somehow soothing.

I noticed his hand reach toward his jacket pocket, then reconsider and move to his cup instead. He must have noticed the absence of cigarette smoke in this room.

"Fine. So he was gay, and you shared that secret with him."

I answered with a heavy sigh. Brian glanced at me and sighed as well.

"Luke, you were trying your best to keep his secret. I understand that, and I promise to respect your intentions."

His words lifted my spirits a little. I finally raised my head and focused on Brian's eyes.

"...Thanks."

"Don't mention it. As long as you told the police everything properly, I have no grounds to lecture you..."

He trailed off, then looked at me and smiled.

Confused, I smiled back. Brian opened his mouth.

"...You did tell the detectives about this, didn't you?"

I stared openly at his handsome, smiling face.

It was clearly meant as a simple confirmation, but still—did I really look that clueless to him?

"Hey now, Brian. Don't underestimate your childhood friend."

I puffed out my chest proudly and flashed a grin.

"Of course I didn't tell them. And they didn't seem to notice a thing."

The look on Brian's face at that moment? Priceless.