STRANGERS FOR YEARS, THREE NIGHTS AS FRIENDS

˗ˏˋ AN EGO THAT SHATTERS WITH EMOTIONS 'ˎ˗

If Seven was ever struggling to solve a case, a hellhole of doubt would always swallow him whole. Unwanted questions would litter his mind that fed the doubt of being a 'great detective.' That was his goal–to be a great detective for only himself and nobody else. And of course, since that was the only goal he had, it was only fair that he had a huge ego for solving cases and finding clues. After countless cases that he solved without effort, along with building a large reputation within his detective agency, even an ounce of doubt would ruin his whole ability to solve one case. No matter how big or small.

A single doubt immediately transformed into a jumble of unwanted thoughts that damaged Seven's ego and ability. And the only reasonable solution that he came up with was to invalidate his feelings. He wasn't allowed to feel this during a case–he didn't have time to feel that. All of those emotions were labeled as useless and simply idiotic.

And yet, not even those labels could slap onto the emotions and thoughts that thundered in his mind.

Two men. One was a clueless man who had no idea what was going on. And the other, a man who could've been behind several deaths and mysterious events. Seven only saw them as interesting individuals, or that's how he did in the beginning. And now, he saw them as people he never imagined would be this important to him. And maybe, for the first time, he would call them friends.

Only to realize that he would have to kill one of them, and the other would have an undetermined fate.

The photo of Natalyse stayed unmoving as it rested in front of Prosper. However, Prosper's eyes were not glaring at her. It was glued to Seven, who kept his head hung low. He could see his pale fingers trembling slightly though that might've just been his imagination.

Kenji had his shattering eyes shifting back and forth from Prosper to Seven. He snapped his eyebrows together before he questioned with distress lacing his words. "Can someone explain to me what's going on? Seven!" his eyes darted to him. "Tell us what's going on. Like–you nearly died? Why didn't you tell us before? And the girl–c'mon, dude!"

The air that surrounded the three thickened with danger and concern. It was so thick that Prosper could taste it. It was threatening, and it might've been worse than the rotting aroma of the corpses. The detective wasn't saying anything, and at that moment, an abrupt thought flashed in Prosper's mind.

"He knows what's going on, doesn't he?"

Seven could feel his nails craving into his palms once more. It dug through the wrapped bandage, a wrenching sharp pain yanking him out of his thoughts. He really couldn't bear to sit here anymore. If the reality here wasn't real, then this case must've been a mistake to even solve. All of his work failed. He failed his boss, he was going to fail as a detective, and in the end, he'd die.

He didn't want to die.

Seven could feel his blood begin to boil, a rising rage stirring within him. His hands continued to ball up into fists before they stopped and reached for the suitcase on the table. He stood out of the chair and unlocked the case before dumping everything out.

The insanely thick book slammed onto the table, which had everyone's data and information written in it. Several colored sticky notes peeked out of the hardcover. Two cooking books clattered along with random cooking silverware. Then came his ID card, the photo of his cat Joker, and the black notebook.

His eyes narrowed into slits and it was obvious that he was agitated. He launched his suitcase away, crashing it into different flower vases on various tables. If he was going to throw all of this heavy information onto Prosper and Kenji for the sake of solving this case, then he would do it. He orchestrated a symphony made for violinists to break their strings. To play a piece written with chaos and haste. Only chaos was what played in Seven's mind. And the promise he told himself he wouldn't break–snapped into pieces.

Don't let any emotions get in the way of this case whatsoever.

A sudden yelp came out of Kenji as he flinched in horror. Then, he and Prosper sat there with wide eyes. What was this? It all happened so suddenly that the words lodged into their throats had disappeared. Every thought that rumbled through their mind poofed. The words 'What the hell?' scribbled on their expressions.

"What is...all of this?" Kenji uttered as he began to reach for the black-covered notebook. Then, an intense sense of urgency began to pulse through him. He flipped through the pages, catching the sight of his registration photo along with Prosper's.

He eyed Seven. "Seven–where the hell did you get this?!" a tone of panic laced with his words. "You can't throw all of this and expect us to understand!"

No words escaped the detective's mouth. Prosper's eyes unlock off of Seven's stern-cold gaze and finally flow over to his belongings cluttered on the table. A hand rested in his lap while the other slowly reached for his ID card. His shock-filled eyes glare at the name imprinted on the white card.

Seven

Disbelief. That was the perfect word used for this moment. He wasn't expecting this to happen, and nor did he expect it to happen so soon. What was a mastermind supposed to do–knowing that their confrontation was nigh?

Unbelievable. He is expected to handle all of this, wearing the expectations of his parents, thinking that he will pull this off with no trouble. To avoid any suspicions other people may have–and yet Seven managed to slip through. He couldn't believe it.

He could feel his head heat and droplets of sweat stream down his temple. Too many thoughts littered his mind–too many scenarios full of dread latched onto his sanity. It threatened to eat it away.

This wasn't fair.