By Zephyria 
‘Davis Pharmaceuticals Announces New Drug.’
Chrissy stared at the article dominating the newspaper headline with a frown. From what he had discovered so far, this kind of drug testing was something most pharmaceutical companies were doing covertly. While he had the will to dig into this and turn it into a gate-class incident, he didn’t move easily this time.
There’s no way people don’t know about this.
The majority already knew the truth. They were simply overlooking it due to ‘realistic problems.’ The biggest reason was medical expenses.
It had become common for people who couldn’t afford a hospital to obtain drugs—which were unavailable without a prescription—through these routes. If this method were to disappear, where would they get their medicine? However, accepting that led to another question.
Then why did this become Anthony Smith’s weakness?
“Oh, Prosecutor. Are you leaving work already?”
Seeing Chrissy coming out on time, the assistant prosecutor asked with wide eyes. Although it was the end of the official workday, Chrissy had been staying in his office quite late recently to investigate this matter in addition to his assigned cases, which was likely why the assistant reacted that way. Chrissy replied with a casual smile.
“Yes, I need to rest occasionally.”
“That’s true, it would be terrible if you fell ill.”
The assistant prosecutor nodded and saw him off with a bright expression. Chrissy hurried out of the building and boarded the subway, but he headed in the opposite direction of his home. He was going to meet someone, but things weren’t going as planned.
“I haven’t seen Bahama in quite a while.”
“Quite a while?”
When he sought out and asked the man who had been with Bahama when Chrissy first met him, he received an unexpected answer. Frowning, he soon recalled Simmons’ words. He hadn’t spoken with him since then, but if Bahama had disappeared since that time, something was very wrong.
“How long has it been? Since you last saw Bahama.”
Next, he tracked down the man who had sold drugs with him, and the man replied with a tilt of his head.
“Hmm, has it been a month or two? Or maybe not?”
He couldn’t get a precise answer. Eventually, he questioned a few more people, but he couldn’t obtain any further information about Bahama or Anthony.
As soon as he returned to the studio, he called Simmons, but he didn’t answer either. Finally, Chrissy sent him a short message.
‘I have something to tell you, please contact me.’
However, there was no reply for two days. Eventually, Chrissy went to his department to find him.
“He’s on vacation?”
Hearing another sudden answer, Chrissy could only repeat the words of his fellow officer. The officer nodded and continued.
“He took two weeks off to visit his mother for the first time in a while. He said his mother lives in the South.”
Recalling the detective’s rough Southern accent, it seemed plausible. But taking a vacation to see his mother so suddenly at a time like this? Without even replying to my messages?
An ominous feeling kept sending shivers down his spine. Could he have dragged him into an absurd case?
Eventually, early on the weekend of that week, Chrissy headed to Detective Simmons’ house, the address of which he had obtained beforehand. As expected, he wasn’t home, but thanks to the traces of a rebellious youth, the locked studio entrance door opened easily, and he stepped inside.
“Mr. Simmons.”
He tentatively called his name, but as expected, there was only silence. Seeing a piece of a leftover hamburger bun on the sink covered in mold, he slowly looked around the house. There were footprints on the table, but they were overlapped in a specific spot, making it easy to imagine Simmons sitting on the sofa after work, watching TV with his feet up on the table. He looked further inside, passing by cheap magazines spread across the floor, cracker crumbs, and food wrappers, but nothing particularly different was visible. The house was a mess, but rather than signs of an intruder, it seemed to simply show a chaotic daily life.
What on earth happened?
It was just as he covered his face with one hand in frustration. Suddenly, he felt a chilling sensation behind his back. Instinctively turning his head, the front door suddenly burst open, and someone rushed in shouting.
“Freeze! ……Oh.”
The man, who had shouted while immediately aiming a handgun, stopped in surprise upon confirming Chrissy’s face. Chrissy, who had reflexively raised both hands, also paused and looked at him.
“Detective.”
“Prosecutor.”
The two stared at each other blankly, letting an awkward silence drift between them.
“My goodness, I didn’t know the Prosecutor had such a talent.”
Simmons laughed heartily and brought a beer to his lips. Chrissy replied awkwardly, feeling embarrassed.
“I came by because I couldn’t reach you. I’m glad it seems like nothing’s wrong… Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
When he asked with a hint of complaint, Simmons smiled and began to speak.
“Actually, I’ve found out something huge. I was going to tell you once it progressed a bit more, but since you’ve come all this way…”
“Yes, please tell me.”
As Chrissy listened intently, Simmons glanced around for no reason and lowered his voice.
“I think Davis Pharmaceuticals is conducting some kind of experiment.”
“If it’s about spraying reagents, isn’t that something we already know?”
At Chrissy’s question, Simmons shook his head and replied.
“No, I mean it’s something different from that. Well, you could call it a reagent test, but it’s a bit different. Ah, how should I explain it?”
Scratching the back of his head vigorously, he continued with a serious face.
“Anyway, it seems there’s something the rich people do for fun. And crime is involved in it.”
“You mean sex or drug parties, things like that?”
“Yes, something like that.”
With a serious expression, Simmons took something out of the inner pocket of his jacket and placed it down. When Chrissy picked up the note on the table and unfolded it, a single phrase was written there.
‘Son of the Moon.’
“What is this?”
“I’m looking into it. But it’s certain that this is an incredibly important figure. It seems they are someone with quite a bit of influence in that gathering.”
Chrissy’s nerves spiked at one particular word in his sentence.
“A gathering?”
“Yes, I’m planning to investigate that now.”
Belatedly, Chrissy realized why this man had taken a two-week vacation.
“Detective, surely you aren’t…”
He spoke with visible wariness, but the detective replied nonchalantly.
“I happened to get information that they are temporarily hiring staff there, so I’m going to go in and check it out. Don’t worry, I’ll get out immediately if it seems dangerous.”
“Going alone is dangerous…”
“If a situation arises where I have to escape urgently, it’s easier to be alone.”
At those words, Chrissy found himself unable to suggest going along. On top of that, Simmons drove the point home.
“The Prosecutor doesn’t even know how to fight, does he?”
It was true. In the end, Chrissy had no choice but to nod.
“Alright. Still, just in case, send me as many clues as possible, and if anything happens, end the operation immediately. Got it?”
“Yes, of course.”
The detective then laughed heartily and said,
“I know my own life is precious too.”
It was exactly three days after that meeting ended that Simmons contacted him. On a night when an ominous rain fell steadily, Chrissy was awakened by the sudden ringing of his phone. Checking the caller, he hurriedly sat up and answered.
“Detective Simmons? Where are you? Are you okay?”
He shouted urgently, feeling an unknown sense of anxiety, but the other party did not answer. Only the sound of ragged, intermittent breathing could be heard.
“Detective, where are you?”
“Prosecutor.”
As Chrissy jumped out of bed and asked again urgently, only then did Simmons speak. While Chrissy listened with bated breath, the man continued to pant, pouring out words rapidly.
“I saw him, I saw him. That man was there. That lawyer, Miller. Nathaniel Miller.”
For a moment, Chrissy’s mind went completely blank. Just as he froze at the unexpected name—
Bang! With a sound like thunder, the call was cut off.