The only thing that separates day and night in the underground is the people’s tired eyes during the evening after a long day.

  I am not an exception. Though, even if my eyes are so heavy that I swear I could lie down here, right now, and sleep on the sidewalk...it’s actually barely morning.

  I lit up a cigarette, maybe that’s going to distract me from the lack of sleep. Yesterday’s case report had to be rewritten five times because my client couldn’t goddamn decide what angle he wanted to present to the court.

  This morning, I got a call. I thought it was a client...but no. It was the department.

  While I’m a PI, I also have connection with the police. Both pay well, both have their bad sides I gotta deal with.

  I usually refuse homicides, especially since cops don’t look at me very nicely, even if it’s within the law and I literally help them. But money is tight, and if I help them solve a homicide case, the reward’s gonna be worth the hassle.

  My steps speed up. I don’t have a car, they’re too expensive nowadays. So I have to hurry up to the station if I want to be out investigating before lunch.

  This is Nochtarn. One of the two only cities of the Saubureau empire and this whole world. It’s deep undeground and it’s as large and deep as it can stretch, since the blight is also rooted inside the soil. It’s solely populated by humans, who cannot live above in Solemnia due to the intense radiations of the sun.

  It doesn’t hurt you instantly, but it causes deadly skin cancer after ten years of exposure.

  Not a wise choice unless you wanna die in your twenties.

  I’m currently walking over one of the many streets of the city. People come and go, not sparing a single glance due to their stressful, busy lives. There’s a constant cold air, so everyone is always dressed in winter clothes, including me. Few cars pass by, spitting out their toxic black smoke.

  My black coat wraps around my body, warming me up and protecting me from the outside rot of this place. A relic of the past, which has seen more things that it should have during my line of duty.

  After a long walk, I finally reach the worn tone steps of the precinct. It’s seen better days...and it used to be livelier.

  I push the door and get attacked immediately by the smell of burnt coffee and blood. Telephones ringing, quiet chatter.

  The dim hallway of the entrance is always filled with people waiting for their turn. We don’t have much space. I look at everyone, some terrified after being robbed, some tired after having to come for the fifth time this week...some grinning, as they probably are going to sue someone and win court.

  I finally get to the other door, the one actually into the station. And Other One in uniform checks me out and unlocks it. A loud buzzing sound erupts, and then I’m in.

  I look around, Other Ones all over the place.

  After the old governor died, the new Empress decided that the law could have been practiced by Other Ones only.

  I reach Detective Lowe’s desk. A female Other One, the one who gives me all the side gigs they can’t deal with.

  Yes. It’s ironic, isn’t it? They still need people like me to investigate sensitive cases because neither the people of the slums, nor the "rich" people of Nochtarn do like Other Ones, so they often won’t cooperate. This is the only reason why I can still carry a gun and keep my job.

  “Good morning, Detective D’arbie,” she quietly says, piling up some paperwork on her desk. She slides a manila envelope across it, urging me to read it with a tap of her slender, pale finger.

  I pick it up and skim through it.

  Marie Berthier, 34 years old. Prostitute of the HoHole club. Disappeared. Her last known location is right outside the club with a man dressed in elegant clothes at 11 PM. She got into a car different than hers, which is still in the parking lot, and never came back to work.

  The missing report was sent by the manager of the club, who is definitely not concerned about a woman going missing, but about losing a valuable worker.

  “The dispatch on the phone said I had to come in for a homicide. This is a missing person’s case.”

  “They think she was raped and murdered,” Lowe says casually, writing on a sheet of paper with her pen.

  “Jumping to conclusions, are we?”

  “You humans all end up doing that at some point.”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I scoff her and toss the envelope over desk, “right...make a copy, I’ll check it out.”

  “Okay,” she stands up and leaves for a few moments.

  I have the chance to look around as I lean against the desk. I sigh, feeling the lack of sleep catching up again. I need another cigarette and a coffee, or I’m going nuts by the end of the morning.

  I go over to the snack room. Some Other Ones are there, chatting. Well, I say chatting but...god, they all look so unfriendly and cold. Like puppets.

  “Edward.”

  Someone called me out as I attempted to grab an energetic bar from the counter. I stopped and closed my eyes, preparing myself for an annoying conversation.

  “Officer Khario…” I mutter, turning to him. His skinny, pale face stares at mine with a plastic smile, “good morning.”

  “Good morning to you too,” he nodded, “came here for the whore’s case?”

  “She’s a prostitute,” I correct him, “a registered prostitute of a club.”

  “Gets drilled by dozens of dicks a hour nontheless,” he chuckles, the Other Ones among him join and cackle audibly.

  “Yeah,” I bite my lips and sigh deeply, “right.”

  “Well, good luck. Lowe tried to interrogate the people of the club but they wouldn’t talk.”

  “I wonder why,” I scoff at him and turn around to leave before he can retort.

  Back at the desk, Lowe is there with the copy, looking at me with narrow eyes as I bite into the energetic bar.

  “What? I’m part of the department too. You said it was urgent, so I missed my coffee.”

  She sighed and handed me the file, “just go and come with something useful by this evening. And watch out for the press, we can’t let them know another girl has disappeared just like that. Keep it low profile.”

  If you did your job properly, women wouldn’t be snatched like fruits on trees so easily.

  I’d like to tell her that. But...nevermind. I need this gig.

  “The rumor has probably spread at this point. It’s been two days,” I shrug, “but...alright. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  “Good. Go.”

  “HoHole,” I voice the club’s name out loud as I stand in front of it. The neon sign is two big red HOs...utterly blinding and unnecessary.

  I step into the club. It’s morning, so it’s a normal pub right now. It doesn’t smell like sweat yet...the dim lights and faint jazz music are actually very nice. It’s going to be less annoying than I thought.

  I sit at the counter, among several early birds who like to get drunk first thing in the morning. The bartender comes and nods at me.

  “Black coffee, please.”

  The man chuckles, the coffee machine starting to whir immediately, “quite the odd place to order coffe, isn’t it?”

  I ignore his remark and look around, but he immediately pushes forward.

  “You a cop?”

  The bartender holds my cup of coffee back, waiting for my response.

  “I’m a PI,” I take out my business card, “Detective Edward D’arbie. I’m investigating the disappearance of Marie Berthier.”

  He chuckles, “they sent a human since nobody would speak to the pale faces.”

  “Yup,” I nodded, “gonna help a fellow human or what?”

  The man bit his lip and sighed. After a while, he pushed the cup towards me, “fine. What do you need?”

  “I need to see the back. Speak to the ladies, to the staff…”

  “Well, the girls aren’t going to be here until 8:15 and the staff is me and my son right now, holding the bar. You’re wasting your time here during morning.”

  “The report says her car is still parked here in the back. I need to check it.”

  “Sure, you can do that. Finish your coffee and go through that door. Tell my son what you need.”

  Cooperative. I like it.

  I gulp down the shot of intense caffeine and stand up, clearing my throat. Another man stands up too and leaves...he hasn’t finished his pricey whiskey glass. He leaves through the front door, while I delve deeper into the club.

  A young man is sitting at a desk in a dusty hallway, managing some paperwork.

  “Who are you?” He asks, wary.

  I show him my business card, “PI. I need to check the car of the missing girl.”

  “Right...they sent a human this time,” he scoffed, “you with them? Or you do it for the money?”

  “What do you think, kiddo? I’m fourty-three...I used to be a detective of the precinct.”

  “Hah...just like my father then,” he chuckles, opening up a little, “he was an officer. He had to leave because of the Empress. Miss the old days huh?”

  I sigh, “yeah, Other Ones weren’t up our asses.”

  “Mhm...alright, let me bring you to the car.”

  We start walking through the back, ending up in the closed off parking lot, which is almost empty.

  “Do you know why we shut off that Other One gal’s investigation? Because she kept calling Marie ‘’whore’’.”

  “Hm…”

  Typical of Lowe.

  A noble reason. Maybe the owners of this club aren’t so bad.

  “My mother was a stripper before marrying my dad. We value that line of job very much, which is why my father bought this property.”

  “I see,” I quietly reply, heading to the car.

  “Right, I have stuff to do...knock yourself out. Just don’t steal anything...the parking lot is our responsibility.”

  “Don’t worry…”

  I pull out my lockpiking set and start working...and I immediately widen my eyes.

  It's unlocked. Marie didn't lock it?

  I sit inside and open the glove box. A small purse. I grab it and check the contents. All her documents are here.

  The key is inserted into the ignition. She was ready to go.

  She wasn't supposed to leave the car here.

  This is weird. At first, I thought it was a date gone bad...but her car has all her belongings and she was probably forced out of her car.

  I check the rest of the car, nothing useful.

  I close the door and stuff my hands in my pockets, trying to figure out what’s next. I don’t really feel like waiting for tonight.

  I looked at the parking lot’s entrance, a fence gate. Maybe the man who brought her to the car led her from there.

  Wait. No. The file Lowe gave clearly states:

  “The witness that saw the girl getting into the unknown car was a bouncer, who saw her getting out of the main entrance with a man dressed in an elegant suit.”

  So Marie had to go through the hallway I just saw the manager’s son sitting at….and then leave the back of the club from there before reaching the exit. He must have seen the man leading her out...if he was there.

  I quickly get back inside and reach the boy’s desk. He’s still working on his paperwork. I lean against the wall on the opposite side, analyzing him.

  “What’s your name, kid?” I ask him.

  “Oliver, sir,” he replies, “everything okay at the car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Found anything useful?”

  “Not really,” I lie. It’s none of his business, yet, “do you work at this desk all the time? Or do you have other duties?”

  “My dad still doesn’t let me do anything else. I stay here all day getting all the payments for private sessions and managing the night’s run,” he says, sighing.

  “Must be boring.”

  “Kind of. Seeing the same old greasy men getting upstairs with such nice women...makes me feel weird.”

  I nod, “I get it. Well...I’ll take my leave. Thanks for letting me check the car out.”

  “No problem, detective. Hope you can catch whoever snatched Maire,” he says, going back to his paperwork.

  I take my leave from the main entrance, looking left and right.

  I sigh and lit up a cigarette as I begin walking.

  Looks like I’ll have to wait for the evening anyways…

  We’re talking about staff here. Why would the manager’s son let a random man into the back? Somebody on the night staff did the whole thing. This means that someone among the staff members went back to work right after snatching Marie from her car and gifting her to that man. So we can narrow it down to staff with flexible duties. Waiters, security...someone who can slip away for a couple of minutes without raising suspicion.

  I’ll question everyone tonight, hoping they’ll cooperate.

  I take another drag from the cigarette, nicotine filling my mind. I watch the smoke curl toward Noctharn's rocky ceiling, pitted by the huge ventilation systems that prevent our death by asphyxiation and let cars be possible underground.

  Now...what do I do for the rest of my morning?

  Marie’s apartment.

  Her address should be in the file.

  I quickly pull it out from my inner pocket and rummage through it, holding my cigarette between my lips. It’s not far from here, I can go on foot.