“So how long do we have?”

“A week, maybe a little more. Lots of Mr. Huang’s family lives in China, so the funeral has been delayed until they can travel here.”

Kang Haneul groans and pinches her forehead. “That doesn’t give us a lot of time, Joonmyun.”

“I know, I know, but I’m sure about this! There’s no way Mr. Huang did this to himself.” Joonmyun stares at her pleadingly. “Please, Haneul?”

She sighs, zipping up her backpack with an exaggerated yank. “Fine, but only because you’re my friend and I kind of owe you one for the whole Chanyeol thing.”

Joonmyun’s lips curve up in a relieved smile. He’s determined to investigate the real events surrounding Mr. Huang’s death, and it will certainly be helpful to have the smartest girl in the grade on his side.

Besides, Haneul and her boyfriend, Chanyeol, owe him a favor. At the end of last year, Joonmyun’s love of detective novels and role as Yearbook Club’s chief photographer uncovered evidence that helped Haneul and Chanyeol’s friend, Sehun, track down a bully targeting Chanyeol. Although they’re all friends, Joonmyun knows Haneul considers her debt to him unpaid.

He’s hesitant to include Chanyeol, who is notoriously clumsy and accident-prone, in the investigation, but Haneul, Chanyeol, and Sehun are a package deal, and there's no changing that.

“We’re going to have to be discreet,” Haneul warns. “I don’t think the police will like a group of teenagers poking around, and they definitely won’t believe your homicide theory just based on a hunch.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could emphasize that to Chanyeol.” Joonmyun grins and rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe ask him to keep this on the down low?”

She snorts. “As if just telling him to be careful will stop him from making a mess of everything,” she says gruffly, but the affection in her eyes is clear.

Shooting her a grateful look, Joonmyun arranges with Haneul to meet with him at his house after school to start investigating.

“Really, thank you,” he says. “Mr. Huang… He was…” For the life of him, he can’t seem to get the words out, and he struggles with himself for a moment.

Haneul stops him with a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Of course, Joonmyun. That’s what friends are for. I’ll see you later - oh right, is your girlfriend going to be there, too?”

The mention of his girlfriend cheers him back up, and Joonmyun nods with a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, she’ll be there.”

“Alright. I’ll go talk to Chanyeol and Sehun, then.”

With a quick goodbye, Joonmyun turns and dashes off to class so he isn’t late. Although he’s grieving, he knows not to let his grades slip, so he does his best to pay attention in school. But even in Chemistry, his favorite subject, he can’t concentrate. The whole day is spent fidgeting with the strap of his camera and wondering who would murder a man as good and kind as Mr. Huang.

* * *

“Anybody want something to drink? Water or juice or something?”

Joonmyun, ever the gracious host, stands near the refrigerator. His girlfriend hovers nearby, watching him worriedly.

Today is the first time since Mr. Huang’s death that Joonmyun will be home for more than an hour or two at a time. The funeral home his family runs is almost a mile away, but the stench of death and formaldehyde is impossible to cleanse from his father’s clothing. When he was a child, Joonmyun took the family business in stride, often playing hide-and-seek and re-enacting his mystery books in the funeral home. He developed a love for funerals early on, a love for the way people came together to honor an individual’s life. Funerals hadn’t bothered him; they were just a way of life.

Truthfully, that’s still Joonmyun’s attitude, but only regarding funerals of people he doesn’t know personally. Having Mr. Huang embalmed by his father is a nightmare, especially when he can’t get the sight of his teacher’s blank gaze and detached head out of his mind. It’s a constant reminder of the events he has witnessed whenever he comes home, and even his parents can’t fix that for him.

At his side, his girlfriend squeezes his hand.

“Joonmyun? Chanyeol said he wants juice, and Haneul and Sehun are fine with water,” she says quietly. “Come on, I’ll get the glasses.”

He follows her like a puppy, ignoring his friends’ concerned stares. The kitchen feels suffocating, too small all of a sudden.

“So, any leads so far?” Sehun asks, breaking the silence. “Anybody who might hold a grudge against Mr. Huang?”

Joonmyun shakes his head. “I don’t know about his past in China, but in the two years I was in his homeroom, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

“Maybe it was Mr. Do,” Chanyeol offers hopefully, face lighting up at the thought of pinning a crime on his least favorite teacher.

Outraged, Haneul smacks her boyfriend’s arm, ignoring his whimper of pain. “Don’t joke about that! I know Mr. Do , but this isn’t a laughing matter.”

“Where should we start then?” Joonmyun’s girlfriend asks, setting down the beverages on the kitchen table. “What do we know?”

“Well first, it had to be someone watching the demonstration that night,” Haneul says, biting on her straw thoughtfully. “Mr. Huang probably would have noticed if the swords had been switched before he packed them. Most likely, this was a very last-second switch done by someone with enough experience around Chinese weapons to tell the difference between a real and ceremonial jian.”

Joonmyun jots that down in the special notebook he has dedicated to investigations. “Okay, good start. What else?”

“It’s someone who knew Mr. Huang wasn’t that good with the jian,” Sehun says. “Otherwise he never would have been in danger in the first place.”

That goes in the notebook, too.

“The murderer had to know Mr. Huang was bringing both a ceremonial and a real jian,” Joonmyun adds.

“And the murderer had to hold some sort of grudge against Mr. Huang, too,” his girlfriend pipes up. Haneul, Chanyeol, and Sehun turn to her with identical ‘no , Sherlock’ expressions, and she shrinks in her seat.

Joonmyun chuckles, ruffling her hair affectionately and drawing her into his side. “No, guys, she’s right, that should go in the notebook, too. I think we can rule out that the murderer was a hired assassin or someone who had no personal connection. Most likely he or she knew Mr. Huang personally.”

The other three bob their heads in agreement, and the brainstorming session continues. No one notices that Joonmyun’s girlfriend doesn't speak again for the rest of the night.

* * *

Ultimately, the meeting ends with the conclusion that very little is known about the circumstances surrounding Mr. Huang’s death. Joonmyun’s friends return home with promises to follow up on possible leads, and soon, only his girlfriend remains.

“You okay?” she asks, laying her head on his chest as they snuggle on the sofa. “I know it’s hard for you to be here so long. Wanna go over to my place?”

His response, accompanied by a cheeky grin, is muffled in her hair. “No, I like where I am right now.” He squeezes her waist a little more tightly.

She giggles. Finally, things are feeling halfway normal again. She’s just a teenage girl, he’s just a teenage boy, and they’re just in love. Plain and simple. No arguments, no trust issues, no mysterious murders.

The door opens, drawing their attention. Joonmyun’s father walks in and stops abruptly at the sight of them.

“You’re back,” he says, staring at his son like he’s seen a ghost.

Joonmyun stiffens as the smell of embalming chemicals wafts off his father’s coat and hits him, but he manages to smile back anyway. “Yeah. I’m back.”

Splitting into a wide grin, the older man’s face lights up. “That’s wonderful! Just great!” He clears his throat and sends an appreciative glance to his son’s girlfriend. “Well, I’ll just leave the two of you be, then. Don’t sleep too late, you’ve got school tomorrow!”

Joonmyun and his girlfriend chorus their agreement, and soon the two of them are alone again. They’re silent for a while, just enjoying the comfort and warmth the other brings.

“Joonmyun, do you think your friends like me?” She breaks the silence, tracing little circles on his bicep.

“What kind of question is that?” Joonmyun chuckles. “Of course they do. Who doesn’t like you?”

“That one kid who lives down the street hates me because I bought the last ice cream from the ice cream truck. And I’m pretty sure my homeroom teacher is holding a grudge against me for turning in so many late assignments. And -”

Her boyfriend lets out a laugh that rumbles his chest underneath her. “You’re silly. No one really hates you; everyone knows all is fair in love, war, and ice cream, and your homeroom teacher’s a grouch anyway.”

She hums in agreement to that last point, but she stays silent after. Sensing that something is wrong, Joonmyun frowns and makes her turn to look him in the eye.

“Really, is something bothering you? Did one of my friends say something? Who said it? I’ll beat them up for you.” He pretends to punch an invisible opponent and laughs, but the humor dies in his throat when he remembers Mr. Huang doing the same thing to cheer him up.

His girlfriend watches his face fall, taking her heart with it. “It’s… it’s nothing,” she murmurs, cuddling back into his arms and hiding her face. “Nothing at all. Don’t worry.”

* * *

The next morning, before classes start, Joonmyun gathers with his friends and girlfriend in the tiny storage closet where Yearbook cameras are kept overnight.

“I’ve been thinking,” he starts, “and I know a way we could figure out who the killer is.”

Holding up his hand to stop the shocked onslaught of questions coming his way, he continues.

“But I don’t know if we would be able to do it. It would be really difficult to do, probably illegal. But if we were able to get our hands on the jian and dust it for fingerprints, we’d be able to find the identity of the murderer. Only the killer and Mr. Huang should have touched it, after all.”

“You don’t know that,” Haneul objects. “Maybe Mr. Huang held other demonstrations and let people touch the weapons.”

Joonmyun shakes his head. “He told me those two jian in particular are his most prized possessions, and only he’s allowed to touch them. He brought them from China when he first moved here, and he kept them in cases at all times so they wouldn’t rust.”

“Do the police have both weapons in their possession?” Sehun asks, sticking out his tongue in thought. “You’d think they’d only have the real jian, not the ceremonial one, and both of them ought to have the killer’s fingerprints on them. Maybe we can access the ceremonial one.”

“I think they have both; they didn’t want another accident happening.”

“Wait, aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?” Chanyeol raises his hand like he’s in class and quirks an eyebrow. “Even if we get the swords, it’s not like we have the equipment to dust for fingerprints or access to a database to run them against. There’s no point.”

“I’ve got a basic fingerprint dusting kit I bought online,” Joonmyun admits with a sheepish grin. “I used to play with it all the time as a kid, and it actually works pretty well.”

His girlfriend outright laughs at him, unable to control herself. “As a kid, huh?”

He flushes and mock glares at her. “I’m still legally a minor. I’m a kid, okay?”

“But guys, that still doesn’t solve the database problem,” Haneul interrupts. “A fingerprint is just a fingerprint without access to police records. Even then, if the murderer isn’t in the system, it’s useless.”

“Way to kill the moment for them,” Chanyeol grumbles, nudging his girlfriend’s leg. “They were being all cute.”

“What, are you saying we don’t have cute moments? Park Chanyeol, we’re adorable.” She glares at him.

“We are pretty cute,” Chanyeol admits with a dopey smile.

Sehun groans. “Hey, this isn’t an awkward double date with me as a fifth wheel, okay? We’re trying to solve a homicide!”

Everyone sobers at that.

“Ideas?” Sehun asks, looking a little sorry for depressing the atmosphere.

“We could break into the police station,” Joonmyun offers half-heartedly. “Or if anyone knows a hacker, we could hack the database. Anybody?”

H