The morning after my reunion with my childhood friend—during which he lectured me through practically the entire night—I was trying to jumpstart my brain with coffee when I encountered the two detectives I'd met just yesterday for a second time.

Where, you ask?

My apartment, of course. Which is to say, these rude individuals had barged into someone's home first thing in the morning under the guise of "investigation," without so much as a heads-up. Honestly, the police these days.

I opened the door with maximum displeasure written across my face, only to find a tall man looking down at me with an expression a hundred times colder.

"...Quite the nerve, jerking detectives around during a murder investigation, Mr. Potter."

"I believe I mentioned this last time, Inspector Robinson. Could you not call me by my family name?"

I tilted my chin up with my best antisocial attitude. Robinson raised an eyebrow in that ambiguous way that made it impossible to tell if he was listening or not.

Then he proceeded to ignore my words entirely.

"This time, you will tell us everything you know about Alan Maxwell."

"After all that digging you did yesterday."

"And yet, it seems it wasn't quite enough."

His expression remained icy as he curled his lip in sarcasm.

"I was under the impression that friends would spare no effort to help avenge their fallen companion. Though if you're the culprit, I suppose the uncooperative attitude makes sense."

Just as I shuddered at his words, a bear emerged from the office—no wait, Brian, who had spent the night on my sofa bed.

He appeared to have washed his face, but apparently hadn't noticed the cowlick behind his right ear. With a tuft of dark hair sticking up, he shrugged at the intruders.

"Ease up on the intimidation, Sam. It's already working plenty on him."

"Brian Darcy?"

Robinson's voice carried a hint of probing, but he quickly nodded in recognition.

"Ah, it is you. We've crossed paths a few times. Thank you for the information."

"You traitor."

Ignoring my resentful mutter, Brian—wearing the largest of my loungewear—padded toward us with the silent footsteps of a big cat.

"If you're here like this, does that mean the police hadn't discovered the victim was gay? I assumed that much would have come to light by now."

"This may sound like an excuse, but the victim possessed nothing that would identify his sexual orientation. He hadn't told anyone, and his dating partner was female. Though it doesn't seem to have been serious."

"Oh yeah, he did mention he was dating girls too."

Robinson's sadistic gaze sliced through me for my casual slip, then he continued.

"Also, for some reason, his family has been uncooperative with the investigation."

"I heard his father was quite strict. The victim was apparently terrified of him."

"I'm sure he was."

Robinson let out a low chuckle, then suddenly stopped and fixed his gaze on Brian.

"...That information came from this guy?"

"Yes."

"I see."

Dark brown eyes looked down at me. His distinctly drooping eyes were surprisingly gentle-looking, but not enough to dispel his intimidating aura.

He continued.

"It seems there are more topics to discuss with your friend, Brian."

"Hey, you can't be serious?!"

"Would you mind if I sat in?"

"Normally I'd prefer you didn't, but under the circumstances, it would actually be—"

Just as I tried to squeeze a word in between the two of them, a soft yet sharp voice cut Robinson off.

"Sam."

I turned toward the voice. Detective Nguyen, who had been maintaining his silence, was looking up at Robinson with an unusually firm gaze.

Robinson seemed to have anticipated the interruption. Without appearing particularly surprised, he turned only his head and received his subordinate's look over his shoulder.

"I know what you want to say. But I'm not about to go blabbing information to these two."

Nguyen answered with silence, his eyes never leaving his superior.

Brian and I exchanged glances as Robinson leaned down and murmured something into Nguyen's ear. He murmured back in protest for a moment, but eventually lowered his eyes with a resigned sigh.

"—If you say so."

Come on, push back a little harder.

Before they could settle things, I hurriedly interjected.

"Hold on! I haven't agreed to an interview yet."

"It's called questioning."

"Right, that!"

I nodded, then desperately pleaded my case to the inspector who was looking down at me with exaggerated disdain.

"Look, this is what Alan feared most. You understand, right? For him, having this come to light was more terrifying than death itself."

"I sympathize with the victim, but that's no reason to ease up on the investigation. I have no intention of letting the killer walk free."

"—What if I refuse to cooperate?"

Robinson's eyes glinted dangerously.

"Obstruction of justice..."

"Are you threatening me, you coward?"

I let out a low groan, cutting him off. What a way to start the day. Come to think of it, I hadn't even had my coffee yet.

"Fine, just come in. We can discuss whether I'll cooperate or not"

Robinson smiled sardonically, nodded with a somewhat affected air, and strode into my apartment. Not a shred of hesitation. He probably barged into people's homes like this all the time.

Already regretting my impulsive decision, I turned toward the kitchen.

The two detectives settled onto the sofa and almost reflexively scanned their surroundings.

Nothing must have caught their attention. Nguyen turned his gaze back to me.