Detective Misfit
Description
This story is composed of both fictional and non-fictional attributes. The most delicate of details was properly researched upon in order not to misguide the readers on some facts stated in the following chapters. The goal was to write a creative, yet realistic and logical, portrayal of crime and investigation mixed with a possible blossoming romance that is enjoyable to read. If my greatest efforts have greatly succeed or failed, please let me know and I will be more than grateful.
NOTE: Sorry, but I used the real Korean names of the idols. Also, the character list is only updated once the character actually appears in the story.
Foreword
PROLOGUE
“Piano Sonata No. 12 in F, K.332: II. Adagio by Mozart. Just in case you’re unfamiliar,” the young man said with a wide grin.
That night in late November, I might have met the strangest man in the world. There was nothing strikingly peculiar about him at first glance. In fact, he was quite good-looking and was about 6 feet and a few inches more. He was dressed in a white shirt topped with a green anorak jacket, skinny jeans, and dressy work boots that looked identical to mahogany in terms of both color and age. His hair was medium in length and was casually brushed up, favoring his right parting. And just like his eyes, his ears were noticeably sharper and bigger in comparison to the rest of his face. He was presumably in his early 20s, judging by his appearance alone.
Aside from his marginally above-average looks, he seemed like nothing else but a conventional flower boy in a romantic setting. I smiled back to acknowledge his skillfulness in playing the piano, which drew my attention from the corner of the street. I observed his hands gradually decrease and increase speed in sync to the tempo of the song in my ears. I was hypnotized for a while until I noticed a mark of fresh blood on the inner end of his right sleeve. At first I was concerned, but he had no present signs of injury or any physical harm.
The machine’s mesmerizing sounds were immediately sent to sleep in the middle of the piece as soon as his fingers stopped dancing along the keys of the piano.
His glaze was hot, but was not fiery enough to cause an explosive and frightening burning sensation across my nerves. The blaze in his eyes were tricky. It was the deceivingly warm kind present in psychopaths and sociopaths that psychology books have warned you about.
“Please,” he said in a soft voice, “don’t be alarmed.”
If I had acted on impulse and ran right away like what a sensible, scared girl would do, then my life would never have been this engrossing.
This was the beginning of a tale about an eccentric detective by the name of Park Chanyeol.
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