"Hello, you've reached L/N's private quarters. Y/n speaking how can I help you?" You brought your phone onto your ear. You take off your glasses as you rubbed your eyes and yawn. It's already dawn."...It's me." The voice was soundly oddly familiar but you couldn't tell who exactly.
"What's your name?" You ask, readying your note and pen.
"It's me, Michael, I need to talk to- BEEP!" You immediately ended the call. Shaking your head, you clicked your pen rolling to your chair office as you relaxed.
"Find someone to do your poor job fucking lickspittle." You muttered as you got up from your office chair.
You quit the police force two years ago. You were a homicide detective, a top-notch officer who always gets the job done. You were an extreme workaholic who does not know the word of vocabulary called relax.
You have earned so many recognition medal awards, also popularity. Your work was your pride and joy, you will eat drink, sleep, and have a one-night stand every Friday
You sacrificed many friendships so you could do well in your career. You don't care you are beyond selfish, you always dismiss someone who confessed a useless feeling for you, and the people who you slept with when they already crossed the line. You devoted your life to your job. They called you in alias as a "Pettifogger" which means we don't doubt they're trying their best. It's an insult.
You loved the thrill, you loved the praise and popularity and you loved the service of justice.
Then, what made you leave? Actually many things. The stress, the toll on your health, the pressure from the victim of the family, and the people were too much. The expectation was too much that made you quit.
You never truly got used to seeing a dismembered body, a lifeless corpse in different locations. You were never desensitized to their reaction to their family sobbing and whaling for justice to come. It keeps you awake at night, knowing there is countless sicko out there willing to destroy families and disrupt harmony.
The guilt stays, the guilt of knowing there is nothing that you can do to bring back the dead.
That wasn't the tipping point your competitor was the one that ultimately made you snap.You were beyond riled when all your hard work, all that research, the countless times you almost got killed and threaten and assaulted, and the sleepless night gathering as much information as you can on the massive crime syndicate, Bonten, it did not earn you another medal.
Instead, it earned your competitor a medal because he took credit for it.
That was it, that was the final straw. You handed your police badge and gun later that afternoon, throwing a violent fit in the head of the department office.
They somewhat begged you to stay because you were one of the best and most dedicated detectives there. You told them to suck your dick. And you walk out since that day you already quitted your job.
After two years of quitting your job, your life has been stable you can eat 3 meals a day, get sleep, and have countless one-night stands at the bar every Friday. You are happy, but something always missing you misses the job you always do. Your life is now boring unlike those days, you have plenty of time on your hand... So you decided instead of wasting your time how about you opened your own private investigation firm? So you did.
Why, why go so too much trouble working again? You have no friends nor a family or a lover so your life is pretty boring if you could say so to yourself. So why not invest your time managing a business? You get to earn more money, you get to make more friends and you get to kill time.
YOU ARE READING
𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫𝒀 𝑩𝑼𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑻 [BONTEN]
Fanfiction(Yandere! BONTEN) You are a homicide detective... You already quit your job but then again, you got nothing to do so you decided to be a detective again but this time you work for someone else. Don't be surprised if one of the criminals who you are...