The Detective and the Damsel

The Oil Refinery Ruse

In the bustling heart of Manhattan, where the intoxicating rhythms of jazz spilled from speakeasies and flapper dresses twirled beneath the glow of chandelier light, the city pulsed with an exciting energy. The streets were alive with the laughter of the daring and the whispers of the rich, all navigating a world where the clinking of glasses mingled with the distant wail of sirens—a city caught between glamour and danger, freedom and constraint.

In the middle of this vibrant chaos, Ryoku Yagi, a spirited young woman with a voice as alluring as her dreams, felt the pull of a life beyond her family's polished walls. She yearned for the stage, to sing her heart out in the smoky lounges where people lived by moonlight and melody. Little did she know, her pursuit of music would lead her into the city's darker underbelly, where every smile might hide a secret and each step toward freedom held the promise of both discovery—and danger.

The mahogany dining table stretched out between Ryoku and her father, its perfect decorations and polished surface a cold reminder of the strict life she led. Flickering candlelight softened the room's edges, casting dim shadows that danced on the deep green wallpaper and golden frames, but nothing could soften the stone cold silence. Ryoku sat across from her father, her heart beating steadily with both anxiety and determination.

Her father was absorbed in his meal, his expression impassive, his focus unyielding. The walls of their grand home, filled with immense wealth, felt like they were closing in on her, suffocating her voice. But tonight, she had decided to speak, to break through that silence.

Clearing her throat softly, Ryoku straightened her posture, clasping her hands to still the slight tremble.

"Father, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

His fork paused mid-air, and he looked up with a slight frown, a single brow arched. His gaze was cold and calculating, a silent demand for her to continue.

"I... I want to sing, to perform. There's a place called The Velvet Chord where they're looking for new singers," she said, her voice wavering yet laced with determination.

The air thickened with tension as her father placed his fork down slowly, his jaw tightening. He seemed to consider her words as if weighing their very worth. Finally, he spoke, his voice hard and biting.

"Nonsense. A lady in our family does not degrade herself with... jazz clubs."

The dismissal hit her like a cold wind. She could feel her chest tighten, a feeling that was all too familiar. But instead of shrinking, Ryoku felt her resolve grow. She took a breath, straightening her spine and locking her gaze with his.

"But Father, I have talent! I'm passionate about singing. Don't you want me to be happy?" Her voice, though soft, held a quiet strength.

Her father's face hardened, his eyes narrowing. His tone grew louder, filled with the sharp edge of anger.

"Enough! You will do as you're told. No daughter of mine will waste her life in some seedy club," he spat, the finality in his words cutting through the air like a blade.

Her father's harsh tone should have silenced her, but something within her refused to give up. She whispered, her voice steady, "It's not wasting my life if it's what I love, mother used to—"

Before she could continue, her father's hand flashed across the table, the sting of his slap startling her, leaving her cheek hot and reddened. Ryoku blinked, the shock of it freezing her in place, but she fought to hold back the tears. The sting was nothing compared to the fire burning inside her. She had dealt with this before, this harsh lash of authority, and the anger building inside her felt stronger than any slap could take away.