Shadow Slave

Saint remained silent for a long while. Most people found her silence uncomfortable, awkwardly trying to fill it with meaningless conversations, but the detective seemed calm and at ease... as if he was deeply familiar with her taciturn nature.

She contemplated him somberly.

Was she in danger?

More importantly, how had she missed the signs of a looming mental breakdown? Saint pursed her lips slightly. She had failed her patient... and so, her pride was wounded. It was an unpleasant feeling, and that feeling was only made irksome by her failure to pinpoint the origin of her mistake. She looked at the unstable man sitting across from her.

Wrinkled clothes, unkempt hair, a pale face, a manic glint in his dark eyes...

The detective looked back at her and smiled faintly, but his smile never reached the cold depths of his eerie gaze.

‘The Sovereign of Death, was it?’

Eventually, Saint tapped her pen against her notebook twice.

“Let me share a few thoughts, Detective.”

His smile widened.

“Oh... by all means, doc.”

She leaned forward a little and spoke in a calm, indifferent tone:

“It has been several days since you returned to service. Coincidentally, the seventh victim of the Nihilist was discovered at the same time... I strongly suspect that you immediately found a way to insinuate yourself into the case.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that is a simple guess. After all, you know all about my history with that guy, as well as how I ended up suspended and sent to therapy. There is hardly anyone in this world who knows me better than you, really.”

Saint continued, her voice maintaining its aloof cadence:

“The identity of the victim has not been disclosed yet — I imagine that is happening as we speak at the press conference arranged by the Mirage City Police Department. However, I did see a relevant title while looking through the news articles this morning... it seems that the CEO of the Valor Group had a conversation with two homicide detectives yesterday. You must have been one of those detectives, so it is safe to say that you have not given up on the theory that there is a connection between Mr. Mordret and the Nihilist.”

He frowned.

”Right, you would know about that, too... still, what an astute deduction. It seems that your talents are being wasted on psychiatry, doc. Have you ever considered becoming a detective, instead?”

Saint ignored the question and looked at him coldly.

“Naturally, the CEO of the Valor Group is an exalted existence — he is not someone to be treated lightly, and he would not have given you a chance to take advantage of him. So, you failed to reinforce the narrative you believe in by meeting Mr. Mordret. Of course, considering your personality type, that did not convince you to abandon it. Rather, it only convinced you to change tactics.”

This time, the detective did not say anything and simply studied her with curiosity.

Saint frowned slightly.

“Or rather, targets. You are a resourceful man, Detective, so you must have found out what Mr. Mordret’s weakness is... and where she is being kept.”

His expression changed subtly, but before he could say anything, Saint finished in an even tone:

”So, this whole conversation was an act. You wanted to manipulate me into committing you as a resident patient, which would give you simple access to Miss Morgan. Bravo, Detective. I did not know that you were such a talented actor.” Ř𝘼Νȱ₿ĚⱾ

The detective coughed a few times and mumbled quietly:

”Oops...”

Then, he looked at her and smiled — the smile was seemingly meant to be bright, but considering his overall appearance, it ended up looking dark and a little threatening instead.

“Guilty as charged. But! That doesn’t mean that what I said wasn’t true. I am a very honest man in the world, you see — two worlds... wait, it’s three at the moment, isn’t it? The most honest man in three worlds, even. So I really meant all that stuff about being a demigod. I truly am.”

Saint gave him an impassive look.

“Uh-huh.”

With that, she closed her notebook, put the cap on her pen, and rose from her seat. Looking at the pale man from above, she said:

“You attempted to use me, Detective. You also made me doubt my competence, which I do not appreciate. Therefore, I retract my offer to continue these sessions. Let us never meet again... I do encourage you to find a different therapist, though. Be well.”

With that, she headed for the door. He followed in a hurry, grabbing her arm.

“Wait a minute, Saint... I mean, Dr. Saint. Actually, I wanted you to meet my partner — she is going to be here soon. Any minute now! Things will be easier once...”

Turning her head slightly, Saint said in a voice so devoid of emotion that the man seemed to shiver:

“Detective... if you don’t unhand me, I am going to break your arm.”

She meant it, too.

Apart from maintaining her body in a perfect condition, Saint was naturally proficient in self-defense and several martial arts, including karate, taekwondo, judo, aikido, and several southern styles of wushu — a fact that she did not particularly like to advertise.

Martial arts were as much of a hobby for her as they were a necessity, considering how she looked and what kind of people she interacted with due to work. Mostly, however, they were a training tool. After all, what was the point of working on her body if she did not know how to use it?

Still, Detective Sunless was no random stranger. He was a seasoned fighter himself — and, unlike Saint, he had earned his experience in actual brawls, not on a clean tatami. Plus, he was a man... even if his stature was modest, she did not harbor any delusions about which one of them was physically stronger.

He could very well disregard her threat...

However, he did not.

In fact, the detective seemed to believe her promise a little too willingly, as if he was giving Saint more credit than she was giving herself.

Letting go of her arm, he took a hurried step back.

“N—no need to get violent, Saint! I mean... Dr. Saint. See? I let go.”

Turning away with a frown, Saint headed for the door.

Just before leaving, she threw over her shoulder:

”Do not approach me again, Detective. If you do, I will revoke my assessment of your mental state and make sure that you never work in law enforcement again.”

Her voice was indifferent, and her gaze was cold.

Closing the door behind her, Saint frowned.

Why did she feel so uncomfortable?

‘Strange.’

Leaving him behind somehow felt profoundly wrong.

But it wasn’t. It was what she ought to have done — one of life’s golden rules was to never waste time on people who did not deserve it, after all, and Saint followed that rule faithfully.

Pursing her lips, she shook her head and walked away.

Left alone in the office, Sunny winced and cursed quietly.

“Damnation. That did not go as planned at all. Where the hell is Effie? She was supposed to be here by now!”

But there was no sign of his partner.

Eventually, he sighed.

“Well... let’s look at the bright side. At least my bones are still intact...”