Decisions and Timing

November 14, 2023 7:30 AM

That morning, Silas woke up excited; why wouldn't he? He finally found a trace in a case that sat on the shelf for a week. The young man was indeed happy, but for some reason, he was troubled. Was it selfishness or narcissism that had captured his heart? A weird feeling kept creeping into his heart. Like an evil embodiment of purity that would not let go — clarity of self-reflection that was yet so dark.

Silas was so thrilled; that he forgot to eat breakfast he just rushed towards the department as fast as he could. After a bit of traffic, the Detective finally arrived at the department, which was pretty empty due to his early arrival. Well, when a person is in a joyful state they may not recall themselves, but every joy slowly fades with time.

In a short time, people started gathering: some were in a hurry, some were walking lazily, some had companions with them — just a regular day. Silas was watching them all, analyzing their every move. He wanted to approach some and shout, "How are you?!" or "Long time no see!" But could he do that? Was he able to force himself to strike up a conversation with someone, even if they were dear to him?

The genius detective had one weakness — that was being free. He was scared of freedom. He would have preferred to be locked inside a cage, unable to escape, but doing what he got asked to accomplish, investigating the cases alone. Maybe the purpose of his existence was to be a puppet of everyone's wishes — a destiny.

As he was wandering in the clouds of his thoughts, a young-looking person approached him with a smirk.

"Good morning, Detective." Adrian looked at him with a welcoming smile.

"Morning.." Silas looked up at him as if he was still deeply drowned in thoughts.

"How are you doing, Senior?" He chuckled and sat down next to the detective.

"I am doing well, just thinking about the case." He sighed.

"I see. I am good as well — thanks for asking." Adrian pouted.

"My condolences." Silas started at the floor for a bit.

"It's nothing, I'm just fooling around," he giggled.

"We'll continue the investigation now. After the work is done, I'll have to inform the Criminal Investigation Sector," the detective said quietly — though it felt like he was talking more to himself than to young man.

Soon after he said that, Silas stood up, and Adrian quietly followed him. As they got on the bus, the detective could not help but stare at the young investigator, who kept glancing at his watch every chance he got.

At around ten a.m., they were standing right in front of the garage.

"Can you finally finish drinking your coffee and show me the area." Silas was not asking — he was demanding.

"It's not just a coffee, it's a latte." 

The young man stared at him with an angry look (though it looked more funny than scary) and guided him toward the area. When Silas looked up, joy filled his body..

"Finally, a trace. Can you show me the picture on your phone?" He smiled to himself.

Adrian quickly put in the passcode and tossed the phone. The detective looked up, examining the painting under the roof and on the phone.

"It looks more like a pentagram than a map," Silas said, glancing at the young investigator.

"You think so?" Adrian asked with curiosity.

"Yeah. I also see symbols in the center, and there are signs in each sector." The detective looked confused but excited.

"That's very weird—and creepy," Adrian said, eyeing him uncertainly.

"I agree. But this is all we've got right now—it's our last hope." Silas looked at him with a serious expression.

Adrian could do nothing but agree with him. In the meantime, they were already at the department trying to figure out the meaning behind this "map." They carefully examined each part of the image but, it wasn't giving them any clear plot. The junior investigator couldn't take his eyes off his watch and the image. The detective could no longer hide his curiosity and finally asked him.

"Why do you keep checking your watch? It's starting to get on my nerves."

The young man was silent for a bit. He looked at the image, then out of the window — as if he was feeling shy.

"I won't laugh at you," Silas said, looking at him warmly for the very first time.

Adrian was still unsure, but he managed to look at the detective.

"Sometimes I just think the time is what we're missing. It's an old habit." He looked up at him timidly.

Silas looked into his eyes, as if something warm were touching his heart — a heart that had long felt rotten. He quietly sat down on the couch next to Adrian.

"Do you mind sharing?"

The detective wrapped an arm around the junior's shoulders, but in response, he got a serious and bothered look. Adrian stood up.

"My apologies. I'll go to the restroom." He gave a final glance and left.

Reynolds felt hollow but didn't say anything in return. Silas was a rude person, yet he was very understanding. The detective knew better than anyone how a single shiver could be tied to someone's past.

Silas had always been a beautiful and talented child, but he changed — no, he was forced to change—when he lost the ace that let him continue the game. Even the smallest change can make someone's life miserable. Maybe if he had kept that ace, his heart wouldn't be full of egoism and narcissism nowadays.

Perhaps one's past is what shapes another's future?

Hours passed, and he was still working on the riddle. After some time, the detective noticed a clue and shouted from joy. Adrian has just returned.

"Adrian, I think I figured out!" Silas looked at him with with sparkling eyes.

The young man rushed over to him.

"So?!"

"Do you see the big black dot over here? That's the location of garage." He looked at Adrian, who was standing above him.

"And how did you figure that out?" 

He looked at the image on the phone after at the the detective.

"If you look closely, you'll see tiny strokes after the black dot. They look like paths — and they seem almost identical to the ones located behind the building," he chuckled.

"Oh, yes, you seem to be right," Adrian nodded.

"Now look at the paths. They go in different directions, but the final point is the same. And in each sector, there's a circle — smaller than the garage." He continued explaining, and Adrian listened carefully..

Silas tried to keep his voice soft to not remind of the earlier incident.

"I think we have to go to each sector and examine the circle inside. I can only see a path to one sector right now, so each one must unlock the way to the center. We must continue the case ASAP!"

Silas wrapped an arm around Adrian. He looked genuinely proud of himself — and he had a valid reason for it. It seemed all his envy had faded, replaced by happiness. He was happy that he had won over Adrian in this game of thinking.

But had Adrian ever truly participated in it?

Just as they were about to leave, the dear detective received a call from Anthony. He quickly grabbed the phone and answered.

"Hello, Silas. How are you?" Anthony's voice was raspy.

"Good, Mr. Anthony. Is something the matter?" He jumped straight to the topic.

"Rushing, are we? Well, yeah — I got a call from the Chief. He wants to personally have a word with you about this case," he said in a serious tone.

"And why is that?"

"They are planning on closing the case for good."

"Excuse me?! Sorry, but I just found the freaking clues!" Silas shouted through the phone.

"Do not yell at me. I told them you finally made some progress, but they didn't listen. And I know it's not in my power to change your mind, so I suggested they have personal conversation with you," Anthony said calmly.

"Should Adrian come with me?" the detective asked.

"Not sure. That's all. See you — and please, be careful." Anthony ended the call.

Silas's facial expression was screaming with rage — he looked ready to choke anyone who dared speak to him in that moment.

"Hey, hey Silas... Please calm down."

Adrian placed his hands on Silas's shoulders. The detective snapped back to awareness and stared at the young investigator.

"My bad. Just... something happened," he muttered, looking down

"Yeah, I can tell — but what?" Adrian gently grabbed the detective's hand.

"Don't worry about it. We can discuss it tomorrow." Silas looked at the investigator with a warm gaze.

"How can I not worry when my partner looks like this?!" He squeezed the detective's hand.

"Please, don't mind me. Today's work is done — you can go. We'll continue the investigation tomorrow, trust me." Silas smiled at him.

"Alright then, Silas. It was a productive day. See you."

"Yeah... see you" They shook hands.

Adrian left the department, and Silas went upstairs — slowly and unsurely.

He was scared, but at the same time, he felt certain he had enough evidence to finally lead him to the solution of this unsolvable case.

In a moment, Silas was standing right in front of the entrance door. Unsure if he was capable of changing anything — yet he wanted to.

Perhaps, for the first time, he genuinely wanted to do something. Especially now, when his dearest partner had hope in him.

How could he possibly disappoint Adrian?

"I have no other choice but to do this," he whispered to himself. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

He stepped in. The room was quiet — empty and soulless. In the center stood a round table, and around it sat several officers. At the head of the table was the Chief himself.

"Hello there, famous detective Silas Reynolds. Call me Edward — pleased to make your acquaintance."

The man, who looked to be in his forties, spoke in a composed tone. His brownish hair was noticeably greying, and his eyes were dark and lifeless — like someone who was here only for the salary, untouched by purpose or passion. His time had passed, and so had the money.

It showed — especially in his coat, which was quietly worn, with scratches around the shoulders and arms, likely from careless ironing. After all, there was no way a high-ranking official would engage in the hard work of ordinary people. Their place was only at the dining table — where they expected to be served.

Reynolds also took in the other men, the ones who remained silent. They gave him a few glances, and that was it. They were all wearing coats of the same color, neckties of the same shade — even their hair color looked the same.

No wonder — there's no happiness in a job like this. People have to blend in to survive.

"Take a seat, please," the Chief spoke again.

Silas quickly sat at the head of the table. He was trying to be careful, avoiding even a glance at the others.

"I assume you're already aware of why I asked you to come personally?" Edward asked.

"Yes, I'm aware of the details," the detective replied.

"Alright then, let's cut to the chase. As you know, I'm closing this case," the Chief said, staring directly at the young man.

"Yes, sir. But I must decline that — I've already found leading traces that could bring this case to its culmination," Silas said, his tone firm and demanding.

"Even so, I'd still rather decline," Edward replied with a grin.

"And why is that?" the detective asked quietly.

"What do you mean, "why is that?" one of the officials interrupted.

"This case is being investigated by ten different departments," a second official added.

"Indeed it is. And even if we do get involved further, the chances of seeing any results—or revenue — are slim," a third official continued.

"There's a high possibility it will be resolved by a different department. Continuing would just be a waste of resources," the fourth official concluded.

"Now that you know the reason, you may leave. Case A-097 is officially closed," Chief Edward chuckled.

Silas paused for a moment. He could agree — after all, that would be the rational thing to do. But… could he betray Adrian? Adrian, who was probably waiting for morning to come so they could continue the investigation together.

The detective knew what he was supposed to say.

"No. I will never drop a case I've taken on — even if it costs me my life," he said, standing up.

He wanted to show them the proof, only to remember — it was on Adrian's phone. He tried to explain the meaning behind the pentagram, but all he managed to do was make himself look like a fool.

"You can't be serious right now, Mr. Reynolds. We've seen that image — it's just an image." one of the officials spoke.

"Your stubbornness is commendable… yet foolish," the old man added, looking at him with a serious expression.

"I understand how stupid I may look right now, but this is really important to me," Silas said, standing there, eyes fixed on the floor.

"I can't offer anything—only beg for your approval. I have clues, I have proof..."

He looked up with a miserable expression, as if he had just been exposed — naked in front of them.

"Interesting words, Reynolds. I expected more from someone like you," Edward sighed.

"The case is closed, you may take a leave."

Silas stood there, frozen — unable to move. He felt like he was choking as emptiness consumed him. The room stretched into endless halls, like something out of a dream. His body began to shake.

"Chief Edward, you may be scared of not receiving the revenue, but fear is all it is." 

He left, slamming the door behind him. A confused look appeared on Edward's face.

He started walking through the halls, feeling hollow as he descended the stairs, glancing around but seeing only darkness. He just wanted to leave this place and never come back.

His sorrow wasn't for losing the argument — it was for Adrian.

When he got on the bus, he noticed a young-looking woman playing a familiar song from the '60s. He managed to calm down a little, but the sadness still surrounded him. He wanted to cry, yet not a single tear would fall.

The bus reached its destination, and a strange-looking woman got off. Silas just watched her as he started walking toward his apartment. The street was dark; for some reason, the lamps weren't working.

On the way, he stopped at something. Looking down, he saw a weird-looking hand clock with gold elements and a red circle inside. It had a few noticeable scratches.

"Someone might have lost this. I'll report it to the department tomorrow," he thought to himself.

He gently put it in his pocket. Soon after, he reached his apartment and rushed to his bedroom without even taking off his clothes. He was in despair, feeling nothing but sadness.

Maybe this misfortune was the path he had to walk. But what's the point of thinking about something already finished — closed?

He was putting all the blame on himself. Only he could have changed something, but he didn't even try. He thought he only brought misfortune to others. At least, that's what he believed as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, his phone rang—an unknown number flashing on the screen.