-A few weeks before-
Tired, he rubbed his eyes as he read through the documents in front of him for what felt like the hundredth time. He was so close to uncovering the truth! Just one more tiny puzzle piece was missing, and everything would finally make sense.
This case was draining his energy, and he was more than aware that he was overdoing it terribly, pushing his body slowly but surely to its limits.
Ah, who was he kidding?
He was already at his breaking point, and whatever he hoped to gain from these damn documents certainly wouldn't help him any further.
Frustrated, he slammed the papers onto the table. He grabbed his coffee mug and took a big gulp, only to immediately grimace. Ice cold. Of course. How long had that coffee been sitting there? Hours? Maybe longer. His back protested with every movement, completely cramped from nonstop sitting — and he didn't even want to start thinking about the state of his buttock.
What time was it anyway? Was that even important? He didn't want to know how much time he had wasted again searching for clues that simply weren't there. No matter how many times he read through these documents — or the old ones.
He exhaled slowly as he leaned back in his chair. His gaze drifted to his investigation board; he followed the latest leads and let his eyes wander over the four victims he had by now, until he finally got stuck on him.
His heart did the same painful jolt every time.
He would never get used to this sight.
His eyes burned, like always, whenever he saw the crime scene photo.
If only I'd been a little faster… then you wouldn't have died...
Suddenly the lights were switched on, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The bright glare burned in his tired eyes.
"Damn it, Ben! Did you pull another all-nighter?!" his partner asked, shocked.
"Turn off the damn light, Sebastian!" Benedict growled irritably.
"No chance!" Sebastian's tone instantly turned strict. "You know very well you're not supposed to be here at night anymore. If Jasper finds out, he'll throw you out on your ass! Seriously, how stupid can you be?"
Benedict exhaled in annoyance.
"He'll only find out if you snitch on me," he countered.
"Maybe I should," Sebastian shot back, planting his hands on his hips. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You need a haircut, a shave, and at least three days of sleep. Every corpse looks better than you."
Benedict really couldn't argue with that. He knew he looked nothing short of catastrophic. He was keeping up with basic hygiene and his training, but anything that cost him too much time he simply ignored. Every distraction—even trimming his beard for ten minutes—meant less time he could spend working on the case.
And that was something he truly couldn't afford.
No. He mustn't afford it. He had to solve this case, for his own sake.
While he stayed silent, Sebastian walked to his desk and set his things down. Benedict blinked a few times against the light, and when he opened his eyes again, a steaming coffee cup stood in front of him.
Surprised, he looked at Sebastian, who was holding one as well.
"What did I do to deserve this?" Benedict asked skeptically.
"You didn't," Sebastian sighed. "But I figured I'd find you here this early. Though at this point, it doesn't matter what time of day it is — you basically live at the station right now."
He sat down in his chair and studied Benedict. "So? Did you manage to find anything?"
Benedict looked again at the investigation board. His eyes followed the photos, the red threads, the notes he'd reorganized a hundred times. Slowly he shook his head.
"The guy's a damn ghost. I can't tell you how he does it, but we didn't find a single trace at the last crime scene either."
"The forensics reports came in, then?" Sebastian asked, interested.
Benedict nodded and handed his colleague the papers. Sebastian skimmed the lines with practiced eyes before setting the documents aside thoughtfully.
"So we've got nothing," he summarized, tension in his voice. "Damn… this case is more draining than anything I've worked on before."
"He won't get much further," Benedict growled, a stubborn spark of confidence in his eyes. "I'll get him. Count on it."
Sebastian gave him a pitying look.
"Ben, you—"
He didn't get the chance to finish. The door to the shared office suddenly flew open. Both men flinched and quickly turned to the intruder. Benedict exhaled in defeat.
Great. Couldn't have gone any better…
"Johnson, in my office. Now!" their superior hissed before disappearing back into the hallway just as abruptly.
"You are so screwed," Sebastian whispered.
Benedict stood up, defeated, grabbed his fresh coffee, and followed his superior. And again, he had no comeback. From the way his boss had sounded, he really was screwed. He exhaled slowly and stepped into his superior's office.
"Close the door behind you, Ben," Jasper said, annoyed. Benedict did as he was told, and when he turned back around, Jasper eyed him critically. "You look like hell. How many nights have you spent in the office now?"
His tone was serious, and Ben knew all too well that he wasn't getting out of this without consequences. So he might as well stick to the truth. Not that he had any other choice.
He shrugged.
"No idea. Two or three?"
His boss let out an exasperated, exhausted-sounding sigh. "Twelve," he finally growled. "Twelve damn nights. You've been here nonstop for almost two weeks — even though I told you explicitly that you're not allowed in the station at night anymore unless you're officially on night shift!"
Jasper looked absolutely furious. And while Benedict usually lived by the saying attack is the best defense, he knew he'd have to restrain himself. But patience was exactly what he lacked after so many sleepless nights.
He'd barely slept in weeks, his coffee consumption was so high his stomach should've been complaining by now. Yet that seemed to be the only lucky break he had in this entire mess.
At least his stomach seemed to be made of steel.
A reason to celebrate, right?
Benedict swallowed down his impatience and met Jasper's gaze head-on. He couldn't let Jasper pull him off the case or suspend him.
"I'm on this case. The forensics report finally—"
Jasper suddenly slammed his palm flat on the desk. The loud crack echoed through the office and made Benedict flinch. His boss stood up, glaring at him with a look that would make any child burst into tears on the spot.
"Enough!" Jasper thundered.
Benedict's hands curled into fists on their own.
"We all want to avenge him, but right now we can't do anything except gather evidence and tighten the noose around that bastard little by little until we can finally arrest him! You know exactly how this works, so get off your damn suicide mission!"
Rage surged within Benedict. He clenched his teeth and shot Jasper a furious glare. What the hell was he thinking? No one wanted justice—or revenge—for him more than Benedict did, so why was his boss acting like he was the one giving everything, when in reality he wasn't?!
"The trail is hot, we have to act!" he shot back.
"There is no damn trail!" Jasper sighed in frustration. He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows and sank back into his chair. "I'm taking you off the case. You're too emotionally involved."
Too involved? Of course he was!
"You can't do that!" Benedict shouted at him, shocked.
"Ben," Jasper said in a calm tone. "I'm taking you off the case, and you're damn well going to obey me. You need distance."
"I don't need any damn distance — what I need is the murderer! I want to catch that bastard with my own hands! No one knows this case like I do, and no one but me is allowed to arrest him!"
Jasper said nothing. He just looked at him for a long moment, with an expression somewhere between regret, worry, and unshakeable determination.
Benedict ran a shaky hand over his face, as though he could wipe away the exhaustion and despair.
"Say something, damn it!" he snapped, his patience finally gone.
"You're right. There's probably no one who has as good an overview of the case as you," his boss admitted.
"Then don't you dare take me off it!"
"My decision is final, Ben. You need distance — you look like you're about to collapse at any moment," Jasper said, much gentler this time. "Listen. I'll let you work on the case again once you've cleared your head. Until then, you'll work on this."
He slid a file toward him. Benedict eyed the plain, thin folder suspiciously.
"What's this?" he asked carefully.
"Your new assignment," Jasper explained. "And the condition for letting you return to the homicide investigation. You can only continue once you've caught him."
Benedict snatched the file and skimmed the few pieces of information inside. Annoyed, he shut it again and tossed it onto Jasper's desk.
"Are you kidding me, Jasper?! You want me to catch this damn phantom thief?!" Benedict hissed. "I'm a homicide detective, not a damn burglary cop!"
"Either that, or I suspend you," Jasper growled. "And this, by the way, is your only chance of ever working on the case again."
Defeated, Benedict dropped into the chair in front of the desk.
"Damn it, Jasper… you know exactly how important this case is to me," he murmured, head hanging.
"That's why I want you to take a break from it. Go home, get some sleep, and deal with the thief. You need a bit of change in your life," Jasper said, much more gently. "Dan would hate to see you like this."
The words hit Benedict like a blow. A single tear broke free, rolling hotly down his cheek.
Dan wouldn't just hate it — he'd tear him a new one for it. Quickly, Benedict wiped the tear away as he thought of his deceased partner. He couldn't disobey Jasper. His gaze fell to the file.
Either he worked on this new case, or he threw away every chance of catching Dan's murderer. And it wasn't as if they actually had anything solid right now anyway.
Besides, he was only officially being taken off the case. He knew every detail by heart; if he kept working on it in his free time, no one could say anything. Not even Jasper. His decision was made.
He would catch that damn phantom thief — and then he would officially resume the investigation. Until then, he would keep searching for clues on his own.
"I just have to catch this little thief and then I'm allowed back in the game?"
"Ben, this phantom thief isn't a simple one either. Don't underestimate him," Jasper warned sharply.
Benedict scoffed. "I'll throw that little bastard into a cell faster than he can call for his mommy."
Jasper gave him a satisfied smile. "I don't doubt that." He leaned back. "Go home, get some sleep, and then come back. I don't want to see you here again until next week. Use the time to get familiar with the case."
Benedict stared at him in shock. Five whole days at home?! He couldn't do that to him!
"You can't be serious, you know damn well that I—" Benedict began, but Jasper cut him off.
"This conversation is over, Benedict," Jasper said firmly. "Go home and stop fighting me. My instructions were clear, or am I mistaken?"
He turned on his computer and buried himself in the paperwork on his desk. Benedict couldn't get a word out. He froze at the thought of returning to his apartment and staying there longer than just for a shower and clean clothes.
But Jasper was already absorbed in his work and paid him no further attention.
So Benedict angrily grabbed the file lying on the desk and walked to the door.
"I understood my instructions loud and clear. I'll see you in a few days."
With that, he left the office, packed his bag, and exited the building without telling Sebastian what had happened inside. His head suddenly felt so heavy. His chest felt hollow, and the last thing he wanted was to go home.
Maybe he could stall for time… or just sleep in a hotel instead.
His hand tightened around the coffee cup his colleague had brought him. If he wasn't mistaken, the coffee had come from a new café nearby.
Benedict took a sip and sighed in relief.
It felt like a small glimmer of light in all the misery.
This coffee was better than anything he'd had lately.
___
Sometimes he was glad to be living in the modern age. It hadn't taken long to identify the logo on the cardboard cup, and to his surprise the café wasn't far from the police headquarters at all.
So this is Café Noir, Benedict thought as he noticed the logo with the black cat playing with a coffee bean. It looked very neat.
As far as he had seen online, it had been around for a few years already. So how was it possible that he had never noticed this café before? Had he really been that blind? However he had managed to overlook it until now, it didn't really matter anymore. He knew it existed—and that they sold good coffee. That was all he needed to know.
So he stepped inside the café and was immediately enveloped by a wonderful aroma of coffee. Normally, he didn't care much about how coffee tasted. As long as the caffeine did its job, it was enough for him. But somehow, the smell in this café made him want more than just cheap filter coffee.
He glanced around briefly. Just as he had suspected from the outside, everything inside was very clean. The atmosphere was cozy and invited guests to linger for a while. There were many plants decorating the place, offering both charm and a bit of privacy from the other patrons.
Somehow, he liked it here.
He walked up to the counter and decided he would spend a few hours here. Jasper had given him a file, and he was quite eager to go through it right away. After all, the success of this case would ensure his return to the murder investigation.
When the customer in front of him paid and stepped aside, it was Benedict's turn—and in the very next moment he found himself facing the most unusual person he had ever met.
The man behind the counter was young, barely older than his early twenties. Several piercings adorned his right ear, some more his left, and he wore a simple black choker. His hair was snow-white, as was his skin—almost porcelain-like. His eyes, however—a deep, clear red—inevitably drew attention. He was beautiful in a quiet, timeless way, with something androgynous about him that defied easy categorization.
Benedict blinked.
Rarely had he seen someone so strikingly beautiful.
Still, he couldn't help searching for a fitting comparison until a thought occurred to him. He looked like those rare animals born entirely white, whose eyes were always that same shade of red.
What were they called again?
Right—albinos.
It was the first time he had ever encountered a person with these traits.
"What can I do for you?" the young man asked politely—but his voice was cool, almost distant. His face showed no hint of a smile.
Benedict noticed the look the man gave him. Detached. Appraising. Had he been staring too long?
Damn it.
There it was again—his bad habit. Thanks to his police training, he scrutinized everyone he met. He always tried to memorize faces and names, or at least a distinctive feature. In the case of the man in front of him, that was easy enough. No one else in the city probably looked anything like him.
Still, he felt guilty for staring.
"Oh, um… good morning," he finally managed, quickly turning his gaze to the menu board behind the counter. He made his choice fast, just to avoid making things more awkward. "A black coffee and the egg sandwiches, please."
The young man gave a brief nod. "Anything else?"
"No, thank you." Benedict hesitated, then glanced around and pointed toward a corner behind a large potted plant that looked pleasantly secluded. "I'd like to sit over there, if that's all right."
The young man didn't seem entirely pleased by his intention to stay. But the alternative Benedict had in mind was not one he would choose willingly. In the end, the young man nodded. Benedict's eyes fell on the name tag on his chest.
So you are called Isaac.
"Of course. This is a café, and you're free to stay as long as you like," he said politely.
"I'm sorry that I—" Benedict began. But the young man named Isaac had already turned away and was preparing his order.
Benedict rubbed the back of his neck and simply headed to the corner he had indicated earlier. Maybe he would have a chance to apologize later.