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devdozes · 5 hours ago

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♣ Whatever happened to the Hayloft? (pt.1)

wohooo modern au! anyways uh reader is part of kremnoan national agency and epos is the enemy

The world always had a way of discarding those who had completed their given role, and You learned that lesson the hard way.

You weren’t born in Kremnos, but you had carved a space for yourself in its investigation unit. It wasn’t out of loyalty or duty but because Eurypon had given you something—an offer, that too an undeniable one. You hunted the rot lurking in the shadows, the kind of filth that thrived in places where the law looked away. Because the offer was a mutual win, To absolutely destroy Epos.

Your last mission should have been a victory. You eliminated the threat, wiped out the infection before it could spread further. You expected gratitude, recognition—at the very least, acknowledgment that you had done the right thing.

Instead, you were met with silence. Then, whispers. Then, a sudden decision was handed down as if it were carved in stone: your removal from the unit, the same unit to which Eurypon himself added you in. And then, you were removed by your superiors, and that same decision was approved by that bastard Eurypos himself.

They told you it was protocol, that your methods were reckless, that you had overstepped. But you weren’t stupid. The target you eliminated had been a benefactor, slipping money into the right hands to stay untouchable. The same hands that had signed off on your expulsion.

Disgrace. That’s what they called it. An exile disguised as procedure. You weren’t arrested, weren’t silenced permanently—just thrown out like something inconvenient.

Your badge was taken. Your access revoked. The work you dedicated yourself to, gone in an instant.

No goodbyes. No allies. Just you, standing at the threshold of a city that no longer wanted you.

The mission played over and over in your mind. "Observe the enemy's intentions and eliminate them." That had been your directive. You did exactly that.

You spent weeks following him, watching him slip through the cracks of Kremnos’ justice system, paying his way out of every accusation, every crime. You watched him destroy lives, snuffing out the weak like they were nothing more than pawns in his personal game. And yet, no one ever stopped him. No one ever tried. He wasn’t just another criminal—he was protected. A necessary evil, they called him. Essential to the city’s survival.

You knew better.

The night of the mission still clung to you, vivid in every detail. The air had been thick with rain, your coat heavy with moisture as you pressed into the shadows of the alley. The target had been cornered, his options dwindling with every step you took forward.

"You don’t want to do this," he had said, voice shaking but still laced with arrogance. "You think you’re doing something noble? I keep the wheels turning. Without me, this city crumbles."

You hesitated—not out of doubt, but out of anger. Did he truly believe that? That he was untouchable, that he could buy his way out even now? That the rules didn’t apply to him?

Your grip on your weapon had been steady, your mind clear. "Then let it crumble."

A single shot. A clean execution.

The silence that followed had been deafening. The city continued on, indifferent. No sirens, no rush of justice arriving too late. Just the sound of rain washing away the blood.

You had fulfilled your mission. You had done what you were told.

And yet, they cast you aside like you had betrayed them.

Confusion twisted in your gut, warring with the certainty that you had done the right thing. Hadn’t you? Or had you simply played the role of executioner while the real enemies remained seated in their offices, drinking their fine liquor, counting their bloodstained money?

As the weight of their betrayal settled in, there was no regret.

But the anger remained, burning beneath your skin.

You had done the right thing.

Even if no one else would admit it. They were all money-hungry cowards.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!". You threw a pillow at the screen with a frustrated groan. The TV show had been a mindless distraction, something to drown out the thoughts clawing at the back of your mind, but now it was just fueling your frustration. The female lead—who had spent the entire season developing chemistry with the actually interesting, funny, and devastatingly handsome second lead—had just thrown it all away for the blandest, most insufferably boring male lead imaginable.

"Oh, sure! Pick the emotionally constipated guy with all the personality of an unseasoned mashed potato! That makes so much sense!" You snatched the remote, furiously hitting the rewind button just to glare at the scene again. "This man wrote you poetry, He made you laugh! Meanwhile, your so-called true love hasn’t smiled once in twelve episodes and the ONLY thing he did was to accept you and give you flowers, which is the bare fucking MINIMUM!"

You slumped back against your pillows, glaring at the ceiling. Maybe it was the betrayal, the unfairness of it all—both in the show and in your own life—that made your blood boil. The second lead had done everything right. He had been there, had supported her, had actually put in the effort. Your fingers curled into the blanket, irritation and something heavier twisting in your gut. The familiar weight of injustice, of being discarded despite doing exactly what was asked of you.

"Ridiculous," you muttered, reaching for the half-empty bag of chips beside you and stuffing a handful into your mouth. "I swear, if they make him attend her wedding in the finale, I’m going to go batshit insane."

And then the finale aired.

The second lead sat in the audience, watching with a wistful smile as the female lead exchanged vows with the brick wall of a main character.

You stared at the screen, jaw tightening. The remote was in your hand, the power button just within reach.

Click.

The TV screen went black.

Without hesitation, you tossed the remote onto the couch, grabbed your bike keys, and swung on your jacket. Enough of this nonsense. You needed something to cool your frustration before you did something drastic—like throwing your TV out the window.

"I am not dealing with this bullshit anymore, isn't tv supposed to calm you down? why is increasing my already high blood pressure"

You quickly stomp out the door, put on your shoes, and run down the stairs quickly, and jump on your bike. from rage or excitement idk

The ice cream shop was nearly empty when you arrived, save for the cashier—a familiar silver-haired young man with a bright grin that immediately screamed trouble. Caelus.

"Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite brooding customer!" Caelus leaned dramatically over the counter, resting his chin on his hands. "What’ll it be tonight? Let me guess—something bitter, to match the look on your face?" that zesty bitch

Before you could retort, the door swung open violently, and a blur of motion tackled you from behind. "[Name]!" Stelle practically jumped on you, clinging to your shoulders like an overgrown koala. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she stuck her tongue out at Caelus. "Beat you to them first!"

Caelus gasped in mock horror. "Betrayal! I was just about to offer them a special ‘overdramatic protagonist’ discount!"

You groaned, trying to pry Stelle off. "I just wanted ice cream, not sibling chaos."

"Too late!" Stelle grinned. "We come as a package deal!" Caelus scoffed, dramatically flipping an imaginary cape over his shoulder. "Excuse you, I am the main event. You’re just the annoying sidekick."

"Excuse you," Stelle shot back, finally releasing you only to jab a finger into Caelus’s chest. "I am the superior sibling here. I was born first."

"You both are twins." You say with the most tired expression on your face while rubbing your temples.

"And yet I’m still more mature," Caelus countered clearly ignoring your words, flashing a smug grin.

"You literally tried to eat a rock yesterday!"

"It looked edible!"

"It was glowing blue!"

You sighed, rubbing your temples as they continued bickering like children fighting over the last cookie. "Can I please just order my ice cream before you two kill each other?"

Caelus instantly straightened, clearing his throat and putting on his best ‘professional’ expression—though the effect was ruined by Stelle making faces behind his back.

"Of course! What can I get you, dear customer?" He batted his long-ass eyelashes exaggeratedly, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Before you could respond, Stelle leaned in. "They’ll have the saddest, most depressing flavor you’ve got. Something that really screams ‘I got kicked out of a corrupt government unit and now I’m having an existential crisis over fictional characters.’"

Caelus nodded solemnly, stroking his chin. "Ah, yes. That’s a classic order. I recommend the ‘Betrayal Blackberry’ or the ‘Melancholy Mint.’"

"Or," Stelle added, grinning, "we could go for full self-pity mode and get the ‘Cold and Alone Cookie Dough.’"

You glared at both of them. "You two are the absolute worst."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Caelus said cheerfully. "So, which depressing flavor will it be?"

"...Cold and Alone Cookie Dough."

They high-fived.

"You guys suck," you muttered, grabbing your ice cream and biting the waffle cone and ice cream with unnecessary force.

"Oh, don’t be like that," Stelle cooed, flopping into the chair across from you and stealing a bite of your ice cream before you could stop her.

Caelus leaned on the counter, watching with the grin of someone who lived purely to be a menace. "So, tell us—was it a TV show or real life that caused this spiral into frozen dairy despair?"

You debated throwing your ice cream at his face.

As you stepped out of the shop, the cool night air wrapped around you, the taste of cookie dough and vanilla lingering on your tongue. The ridiculous bickering between Stelle and Caelus still echoed behind you, but for once, instead of irritation, it left a small smile on your face.

"Try not to get arrested!" Caelus called after you with a cheeky wave.

"And don’t die!" Stelle added, throwing in a thumbs-up.

"You guys act like I can’t handle myself," you scoffed, waving lazily over your shoulder as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

The moment lasted exactly three seconds before someone slammed into you.

Your grip on the ice cream loosened, the cone slipping from your fingers in slow motion, the pale brown-dotted biege scoop tumbling unceremoniously onto the pavement.

You barely registered the loss of your dessert because the person who bumped into you—a hooded stranger—was already darting away, their head ducked low. A second later, shouts erupted from down the street.

"Hey! Stop that guy!"

"He stole my bag!"

"Someone grab him!"

You blinked, staring after the retreating figure.

Then, slowly, your gaze dropped to the fallen ice cream, the way it lay pitifully on the ground, melting into a sad puddle.

Your eye twitched.

Alright. The theft? Definitely a problem.

But ruining your ice cream? That was just personal.

"HEY, YOU SON OF A—" You took off in a sprint, instincts kicking in before you even thought about it.

The stranger whipped his head around in alarm, realizing that not only was he being chased—but that his pursuer was very, very angry.

"Oh, you better start running!" you yelled, pushing forward with even more speed.

"WAIT—WHAT—WHY ARE YOU CHASING ME?!" the thief shouted over his shoulder, dodging past pedestrians.

"YOU RUINED MY ICE CREAM, YOU COWARD!"

That seemed to genuinely throw him off. He stumbled slightly before regaining his pace, muttering something under his breath about lunatics.

Behind you, Stelle and Caelus had stepped outside just in time to witness the scene.

Caelus let out a low whistle. "Aaaand there she goes."

Stelle crossed her arms, grinning. "Do we help?"

Caelus hummed, pretending to think. "...Nah. This seems personal."

You took a sharp turn into the alleyway, cutting off the thief’s path before he could escape into the maze of side streets. He skidded to a stop, looking around frantically like a trapped rat.

"Alright, asshole," you panted, rolling your shoulders as you stepped forward. "You made me drop my ice cream. Now I have to kick your ass on principle."

The thief let out a high-pitched laugh, one that sounded more nervous than anything. "L-Let’s not be hasty now!"

You blinked.

That voice.

That infuriatingly familiar, weaselly voice.

Your eyes narrowed as the thief slowly turned around, hands raised in mock surrender.

Purple hair. Cocky grin. Shady coat.

"Sampo?" you deadpanned.

"Ahahaha... surprise?" Sampo Koski grinned, but the sweat dripping down his forehead told you everything.

You stared at him. Then at the stolen bag slung over his shoulder. Then back at him.

"...You stole someone’s bag?"

"Hey, hey, hey, let’s not use such harsh words!" Sampo waved his hands, stepping back. "I prefer ‘borrowing without permission’—"

Your glare intensified.

He coughed. "Temporarily relocating belongings—"

You cracked your knuckles.

"—IT’S A MISUNDERSTANDING, I SWEAR!"

Before he could bolt again, you lunged, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him close. "You owe me ice cream, you rat bastard."

Sampo held up his hands in surrender. "H-How about I get you two? Three! Three ice creams! My treat!"

"You are so lucky I don’t punch you right now," you growled, releasing him with a shove. "Now return the damn bag before I make you eat pavement."

Sampo chuckled nervously. "Right, right—of course! No problem! Consider it already done!"

Just as he said that, the original owner of the bag—an angry looking woman—came sprinting up, flanked by two security officers.

"There he is!" she shouted, pointing directly at Sampo.

He stiffened. "Ah. Well. This is awkward."

You smirked. "Oh no, please go on. I’d love to see how you talk your way out of this one."

Sampo shot you a pleading look before sighing dramatically. "Alright, alright, no need for handcuffs! It’s all a big miscommunication, I assure you!"

As the officers descended on him, you simply stood back, arms crossed, enjoying every second of his downfall.

. . . .

As the security officers reached for Sampo, he shot you one last desperate look—the kind that screamed "Help me, oh great and merciful person whom I may have slightly inconvenienced!"

You rolled your eyes.

"Hey," you called out to the officers, stepping forward. "This dumbass already realized he messed up. No need to rough him up."

The security guards hesitated. The woman, now clearly an elderly lady with sharp eyes, frowned at you.

"Are you vouching for him?" one of the guards asked, skeptical.

"Pfft— No." You snatched the bag from Sampo’s hands before he could protest and turned to the woman. "Here. Safe and sound."

The old lady blinked, surprised. Then, with a warm smile, she took the bag. "Oh, bless your heart, dear!"

Meanwhile, the guards turned their attention to Sampo again.

"Hey, would you look at the time!" Sampo chirped, already inching away. "I must be going—"

You stuck your foot out.

Sampo tripped but recovered quickly, casting you a betrayed look.

You sighed dramatically. "Alright, alright, he’s harmless. Just let him go."

The officers exchanged glances but ultimately relented, grumbling as they backed off. The elderly woman gave you another grateful nod before walking off, leaving you alone with the notorious conman.

Sampo, ever the opportunist, dusted himself off with a wide grin. "Wow! You actually helped me! Didn’t know you cared so much—"

Your fist cracked against his head lightly—a warning tap, really.

"Ow!"

"You owe me ice cream, Koski." You grabbed his collar before he could escape. "And a damn good explanation."

Sampo chuckled nervously. "Ehehe… w-well, you see—"

You dragged him back toward the ice cream shop.

"Talk. Now."

As the bell chimed upon your return, Caelus and Stelle looked up from behind the counter—only to immediately burst into laughter.

Caelus nearly collapsed onto the register, wheezing. "Oh my god."

Stelle clutched her stomach, barely able to breathe. "What— what is that look on your face—?"

Because, standing at the entrance of the shop, you wore the most dangerously peaceful smile imaginable. A smile that promised violence.

And in your grasp, Sampo Koski dangled half-dragged by the collar of his coat, groaning dramatically. "Mercy! Mercy, I say!"

Caelus wiped a tear from his eye. "Did you adopt a stray, [Name]? Or—wait—did the stray adopt you?!"

"Shut up," you said sweetly, before unceremoniously dumping Sampo onto the floor.

"Oof—!" He sprawled out like a ragdoll. "Rude."

You turned to Caelus, still smiling. "Another one of my usual. On him." You jabbed a thumb at Sampo, who gave a weak thumbs-up from the floor.

Stelle snickered. "You got a sugar daddy now?"

"More like a debt-ridden weasel who owes me for ruining my first ice cream." You crossed your arms. "And I will be collecting."

Sampo scrambled up, brushing himself off. "Now, now! Let’s not be hasty—"

Caelus grinned, already scooping your ice cream. "Oh, no. We love hasty."

Stelle smirked. "So, Koski—" She leaned over the counter. "—care to explain what the fuck just happened?"

Sampo let out a nervous chuckle, straightening his coat as he glanced between you, Stelle, and Caelus—all three of you wearing eerily expectant expressions.

"Now, now," he started, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Surely there’s no need for such hostility! Let’s all take a deep breath, relax, and—"

You grabbed a chair and turned it around, sitting on it backward like you were about to interrogate him. "Talk."

Caelus, ever the opportunist, slid a cup of water across the counter like he was in some kind of detective movie. Stelle leaned in closer, grinning.

"Spill."

Sampo sighed dramatically. "Ahh, what a cruel world! A man can’t even do a little bit of freelance item relocation without being hunted down like a criminal—"

"Because you are one?" you deadpanned.

"Details!" He waved you off. "See, my dear friends, it’s all about perspective! To you, I might look like some shady—albeit handsome—fellow running through the streets, but to others, I am simply a humble entrepreneur!"

Caelus snorted. "Humble, my ass."

You tapped your fingers against the chair. "So what, you just happened to rob an old lady in front of a crowd?"

"*Whoa!*Whoa! Let’s not throw around words like ‘rob,’" Sampo said, looking genuinely offended. "She was the one who had something very valuable, and I simply liberated it for a bit! Then I was going to return it—eventually!"

"Eventually my ass," you muttered.

Stelle grinned. "So, what was in the bag, huh? Stacks of cash? A top-secret government file? The legendary lost treasure of—"

Sampo groaned, rubbing his face. "Ugh, it was a bunch of handmade scarves!"

There was silence.

Then Caelus burst out laughing again. Stelle doubled over, wheezing.

You blinked. "Wait, what?"

Sampo slumped over the table. "I thought it was something else!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "You—stole scarves? From an old lady? And got chased down the street for it?"

Sampo threw his arms in the air. "I panicked!"

Caelus wiped a tear from his eye, grinning. "Man, you really are the worst at this."

"I’m usually so good at this!" Sampo groaned, before giving you the most pitiful look possible. "You believe me, don’t you?"

You took your freshly made ice cream from Caelus, making a show of enjoying the first bite. Then, without breaking eye contact, you reached out and grabbed Sampo’s wallet right from his coat.

"Hey—!"

You flipped it open, pulled out enough to cover the ice cream, and slammed the cash onto the counter. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Caelus let out an exaggerated "oohhh!" while Stelle outright clapped.

Sampo sighed, defeated. "You wound me, [Name]. Truly."

You smirked. "Next time, watch where you’re running. Or maybe don’t steal from old ladies."

Sampo pouted. "Lesson learned… probably." that fucking whore

With the sweet taste of victory (and ice cream) on your tongue, you leaned back in your chair, savoring every bite while Sampo sulked dramatically across from you. Stelle was still giggling every now and then, and Caelus had taken it upon himself to reenact Sampo’s very ungraceful escape attempt using napkins and straws.

You took another slow, deliberate spoonful, making a show of enjoying it just to rub salt in Sampo’s wounded pride.

"Mmm. So worth the trouble."

Sampo groaned, slumping over the table. "This is cruel and unusual punishment. Watching someone else enjoy what should’ve been mine."

"You paid for this," you reminded him.

"And yet, somehow, I feel robbed," he sighed.

Stelle grinned. "Now you know how that old lady felt."

Sampo shot her a betrayed look, but before he could get another word in, you set your spoon down, stretching with a satisfied sigh. "Alright, I’m heading home before something else drags me into its nonsense."

"Awww," Stelle whined. "You sure? You could stick around and watch Caelus keep clowning on Sampo."

Caelus, who had been dramatically dropping a napkin “thief” off a table ledge, grinned. "I’ve got at least ten more skits in me."

Sampo groaned louder. "You’re all terrible people."

You laughed, standing up. "I’m sure you’ll survive, Sampo. Or not. Either way, not my problem."

With a final wave to the chaotic duo, you exited the shop, stepping into the cool night air. Your bike was parked nearby, and you swung a leg over it with ease, the quiet hum of the streets a welcome change from all the chaos.

For the first time in a while, a genuine smile settled on your face.

As you settled onto your bike, ready to head home, a flicker of movement in your peripheral vision caught your attention.

A hooded figure stood near the alley across the street, leaning casually against the wall as if waiting for something—or someone. The dim glow of a nearby streetlamp barely illuminated his features, but for a split second, you caught a glimpse of something familiar.

Ash-blonde hair with red tips.

Your grip on the handlebars tightened slightly. A strange sense of recognition stirred in your chest, but you pushed it down. You were tired—you’d had enough surprises for one night.

With a shake of your head, you dismissed the thought. Probably just some random guy. Not your business.

You revved your bike, the engine’s low hum filling the silence. The hooded figure didn’t move, didn’t react.

And so, you turned your attention back to the road and rode off into the night, leaving the stranger—and whatever trouble he might bring behind because you had enough for one fucking night

. . . . .

The ride home was uneventful, the cool night air doing little to wash away the lingering irritation from earlier. You parked your bike, stretched out your sore limbs, and stepped inside. The dim glow of your apartment welcomed you, quiet and still—just the way you liked it.

You tossed your jacket onto the couch, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and were about to collapse onto your bed when your phone buzzed.

Unknown Caller.

You stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up. Something about it felt… off.

Against your better judgment, you answered.

A familiar voice crackled through the speaker. "…[Name]?"

You froze.

Aglaea.

It had been months since you last heard her voice. Since she let you walk away without a word. Since she didn’t defend you when you needed her most.

Your grip on the phone tightened. "What do you want?"

There was a pause. A hesitation. Then—

"Eurypon is dead."

The words settled over you like a thick fog. Cold. Heavy.

You blinked once. Then twice.

Dead?

Eurypon—the same bastard who removed you from the unit, who framed you as reckless, who ensured you’d never work in the investigation unit again—was dead?

You weren’t sure how to feel. Shocked? Maybe. But there was no grief. No sadness. Just an empty sort of understanding.

People like Eurypon made enemies. It was only a matter of time.

You exhaled, voice steady, emotionless. "I'm not in the investigation unit anymore, Aglaea. Don’t contact me."

A beat of silence. Then, Aglaea’s voice softened. "I know," she murmured. "I just thought… you should hear it from me. Not the news. Not anyone else."

You didn’t respond.

Another pause. Then, quieter—almost hesitant—she added, "Save my number, [Name]. Even if you don’t want to talk to me. Just… save it."

You sighed, fingers hovering over the screen.

Then, without another word, you declined the call.

But you did save her number.

. . . .

You groaned, throwing yourself onto the couch before grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV. After the chaotic mess of the night, all you wanted was some mindless background noise.

Flipping through the channels, you paused at the news. Maybe they had an update on something actually interesting.

"Breaking News: Former Investigation Unit Director, Eurypon, Found Dead."

Your brows raised slightly. So it was real.

The reporter droned on about the details—Eurypon’s body found in a private residence, a single bullet wound to the head, no signs of forced entry. But what really caught your attention was the next segment.

A figure appeared on the screen, standing at a podium in a sharply pressed uniform, flanked by two other high-ranking officials. His face was one you recognized instantly.

Ash-blonde hair with red tips, slightly messy yet unmistakable. Cold golden eyes staring through the camera with that same unyielding intensity.

Mydei.

Your former teammate.

No. More than that.

Eurypon’s son.

Your lips curled into something between amusement and curiosity. So he was the one stepping into his father’s shoes now?

Then, before you could process anything further—

BZZZT.

Your phone vibrated against your stomach. Another unknown number.

You groaned, throwing a pillow across the room in frustration. "Are you kidding me?"

Swiping the call open, you pressed the phone to your ear. "Whoever this is, I swear—"

"[Name]."

You blinked.

That voice. Low. Steady. Unshaken.

You glanced at the TV again, and there he was—Mydei, standing there like he owned the damn world.

Slowly, you sat up, adjusting your grip on the phone. "You killed Eurypon, didn’t you?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then, calmly, Mydei responded, "Yes."

No hesitation. No guilt. No unnecessary justifications. Just a simple, undeniable confirmation.

You exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking your head. "Well. Can’t say I’m surprised."

Eurypon was a bastard. A snake who sold out his own people for power. You weren’t about to shed any tears over him.

"That’s not why I’m calling." Mydei’s voice was clipped, professional. "We need you back in the investigation unit. There’s a mission that requires your expertise."

Your amusement faded.

And then you laughed.

Loud. Sharp. Unbelieving.

"You think I’d ever go back to that corrupt mess?" you asked, a grin stretching across your face. "You’re funny, Mydei. I don’t do favors for free, and I especially don’t work with the people who threw me out like trash."

There was silence on the other end.

Then, a sigh.

"I expected you to say that," Mydei admitted, his voice still composed. "But it was worth a try."

"You seriously thought I’d agree?"

"I thought you might consider it."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Hard pass."

Another pause. Then, softer than before—barely noticeable—he said, "…I see."

You almost laughed again. Even now, he was as restrained as ever.

"Tell you what," you said, stretching lazily against the couch. "How about next time you call, you don’t ask me to clean up the investigation unit’s mess? Try something fun for once."

A quiet breath from the other end, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Then, his voice returned to that same controlled, unreadable tone.

"Just wait till 25th April."

And with that, the call ended.

You exhaled, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you.

So Mydei was pulling the strings now.

And he had no qualms about getting blood on his hands.

You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

April 25th

Your phone buzzed.

You barely spared it a glance, still sprawled out on your couch, half-asleep from last night’s late ride. The screen flashed with an unknown number again.

A groggy sigh left your lips as you grabbed it. "This better not be another waste of my time."

"[Name]."

You sat up instantly.

That voice—steady, composed, unmistakably Mydei.

"You're calling me again?" you said, rubbing your eyes. "What, another mission offer? I already—"

"Check the news."

You blinked.

Something in his tone made you pause. He sounded… amused? Smug, even.

Your brows furrowed as you reached for the remote. The news channel flickered to life on your TV, and within seconds, you were wide awake.

"Investigation Unit Officials Exposed in Widespread Corruption Scandal—Mass Firings Underway."

Your breath hitched.

The screen displayed a list of names, each one making your pulse quicken.

People you used to work with. The same bastards who threw you under the bus. Who framed you, lied, and made sure you'd never step foot in the unit again.

Now? They were gone.

Some were getting arrested. Others were being dragged out of their offices, their faces pale as reporters bombarded them with questions. Their crimes—bribery, evidence tampering, illegal dealings—were being laid out in broad daylight for everyone to see.

You sat there, stunned.

And then, from the phone pressed against your ear—

A quiet chuckle.

"So?" Mydei drawled, clearly enjoying this moment. "What do you think?"

You let out a slow breath, still processing everything.

"You… really went and did it, huh?"

"You sound surprised."

"That’s because I am." You shook your head, watching as another corrupt official was led out in handcuffs. "I knew you were stepping in, but I didn’t think you’d actually clean house."

A hum from the other end of the line. "I said I would handle it."

Your lips twitched. "Didn’t think you’d be this thorough."

There was a pause, then, with that same unwavering authority, Mydei spoke again.

"Come to the Investigation Unit tomorrow at 7 AM. ASAP."

You stiffened. "Wait—what?"

"You’ll be leading the next mission," he continued, completely ignoring your reaction. "Highest-ranking officer. No one above you. No one to control you. You do things your way this time."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"You’re serious?"

"Have I ever wasted my time with jokes?"

He had a point.

Before you could respond, the line cut off.

You lowered the phone slowly, still staring at the news, but your focus had already shifted.

Tomorrow at 7 AM.

You were back in the unit.

And this time, you were the one in charge.

A quiet chuckle slipped past your lips.

It felt good.

HI GUYS ITS ANTOHER SERIESS and ts tension wohoo!! @leonsnewadventures