INM 1 Part 3

Even after getting into the elevator, Brian didn’t let go of my wrist.

“Brian, I’m not going to run away anymore.”

With a sigh, I insisted, but Brian, glaring at the blinking elevator floor numbers, looked down at me.

I almost jumped in surprise and quickly turned my body away from him.

“Why are you so angry…?”

“I see…” his calm and cold voice descended from above. “The lecture needs to start from there.”

“I was wrong.”

Staring at the door, I mumbled an apology.

“Blocking your calls was a bit much. I may have hurt you… oh, if you didn’t notice, just forget I said that… anyway, I felt uncomfortable around you at the time and needed some space to recover.”

A high-pitched electronic tone sounded and the elevator doors opened.

Without a word, Brian pulled me out and started walking toward my room.

“Hey, Brian! Are you listening? By then, you had recovered enough that you didn’t need my help anymore. So…”

He did not even look at me as I continued to argue, the man unlocked the door with a somewhat rough sound.

Then he pushed me into the room and followed me, locking the door from the inside.

As I wondered if the door had always been this small, the man turned around and his expression made me brace myself.

Oh, no. The long-awaited lecture was finally about to begin… Just as I closed my eyes, I found myself wrapped in Brian’s long arms.

I was so surprised that I blinked in his arms.

“Um, Brian…?”

When I timidly opened my mouth, his grip tightened even more, and strangely, I felt a little moved by his rough embrace.

Come to think of it, we’d been together since before we could even remember.

Even if it wasn’t the way I wanted it, Brian could have appreciated me as a friend too… As I thought about it, his grip became almost unbearably strong.

I put up with it for a full three seconds, thinking it was a sign of friendship, before I couldn’t take it anymore and yelled.

“I give up, you Terminator! Your strength is too much for a mere human!”

“Giving up already, and we haven’t even started?”

Brian laughed softly, his voice creaking… along with my spine.

“Hahaha… I’ve had enough of your enthusiastic greeting…”

“Didn’t I tell you before?”

“That you’re happy to see me?”

“Think of others before you run away!”

“Now that you mention it, I think you said something like that.”

Gasping for breath, I replied desperately.

“It was when I turned half of Seth’s report into ashes!”

“So it was you! My father scolded me for it.”

When he finally released me, the man shouted, his voice rising.

“Damn it, when I mistakenly thought I didn’t have enough credits and run away from home, when I threw away only the bitter medicine the doctor gave me, and when I drew huge eyes on Mr. Knightley’s bonnet!”

“You remember well.” I said, laughing with relief after being freed from his grip. “It was quite a mess afterwards, wasn’t it?”

“For everyone else!”

Brian groaned and then let out a big sigh.

In that brief moment, I hurriedly slipped in my words.

“Uh, for now, just come in, Brian.”

I had to get him to sit on the sofa. Some French philosopher or other once said, “Don’t argue with an angry person about his anger, just offer him a chair.

“I’ve got a good blender and a French press, so how about some coffee first?”

Brian, frowning deeply, remained silent, but reluctantly followed me into the living room as I carefully kept my distance.

“You still prefer black?”

He nodded in response to my words and looked around the room with a somewhat surprised expression on his face. I also looked around my familiar room.

The room was a soft white for the walls, floor and ceiling, but one wall had been reworked to look like brick.

In front of this wall, I placed a guest sofa with classic details and a unique shape that catches the eye. In front of the sofa, I placed a table that exudes quality and warmth.

A bit away from the guest set is a glass table for meetings with colleagues, and closest to the kitchen is my desk with a stationary iMac.

These are the main pieces of furniture. I kept it as simple as possible, but chose a chandelier and a rug that are sufficiently glamorous so that it feels balanced and harmonious… or so I think.

As I looked around the interior of the office, tilting my head, the man muttered as his eyes wandered.

“It’s surprisingly tidy.”

Brian’s words almost made me drop the coffee beans in surprise.

“What are you talking about? I’ve always been a neat freak.”

“Keep joking. You were always messy.”

In response to my childhood friend’s words, I shrugged as I put the beans in the grinder.

“That’s because my mom is a mess. No matter how much I clean up, she messes up again.”

“Is that so?”

The man murmured, as if he didn’t quite believe it, and sat down on the sofa, crossing his long legs.

He is annoyingly photogenic in every situation.

I remember thinking the same thing in high school. Back then it was more of a desperate, painful crush that squeezed my heart. It’s quite nostalgic.

“This living room doubles as my office, so I pay special attention to it.

Giving up on correcting his misunderstanding, I poured the grounds and hot water into the newly purchased French press. The enchanting aroma of coffee immediately filled the entire kitchen.

“The bedroom and reading room in the back have a more “lived-in” feel.”

“I see.” Brian replied, not particularly interested. “I heard you went out on your own as an interior decorator. Is this hair color a sign of your determination or something?”

“Oh, right, this is the first time you’ve seen me with this color.”

As I spoke, I touched my cool blonde hair. It’s this bright color now, but my natural hair is a typical dark brown. It’s also curly. If I said it would look right at home in ancient Roman garb, would that give you an idea?

“When I asked the recommended salon to give me a hairstyle that would suit me, this is what they came up with. They said this color is perfect for my medium beige skin and slim body.”

“Well, it suits you.”

“Thank you.”

“You seem to be doing well.”

Brian said, looking around the room with interest. Well, it’s only natural to think so, considering I live in a luxury apartment in the heart of Brisbane, even though it doubles as my office.

In fact, at twenty-seven, I could say that I was quite successful. Except for the first two months after going out on my own, my performance had steadily improved, and my self-made textiles, which had been adopted by a friend’s brand, had gradually increased my recognition. Thanks to referrals and repeat customers, I hadn’t missed a day of work in the past year.

Clearly, my business was doing well.

Still, I would never call myself a success. There were too many elements of coincidence. I felt it was success beyond my means.

“It wasn’t so much my skill as it was just luck.” I mumbled, trying to play it down. “The person who liked my coordination happened to be someone who likes to invest in young talent.”

Brian looked up, his gaze stopping at the immaculate chandelier that scattered the light.

“Don’t be so modest. I’ve heard that your skills are quite impressive.”

“From whom?”

“Rosa. She said she hired you to coordinate a celebration and you did an even better job than she imagined. My mom heard about it and said she might want to hire you, too.”

“That’s really nice to hear.” I couldn’t help but smile at the unpretentious praise from someone back home. “If she really wants to hire me, tell Hannah she can contact me anytime.”

“Got it.”

Nodding seriously, Brian stared at me over the counter. His look seemed to have something to say, so I reluctantly picked up the cup and the pot. I walked over and sat down in the chair diagonally in front of him. Please don’t blame me for not having the courage to sit next to him.

“Hey, Brian. About what happened three years ago…”

“Enough about that.”

Brian interrupted my words, deep in thought with a difficult expression on his face. The irritation he had when we reunited on the ground floor was already gone and I felt very confused.

As I poured the coffee into the cup, my head filled with question marks, the man seemed to gather his thoughts and suddenly looked up and spoke.

“You mentioned a murder.”

The words made me freeze, as if a wound I hadn’t yet faced had been touched.

My grandmother’s and Alan’s deaths were too heavy to accept in just one day. The thought that I would never see them again still didn’t feel real.

Brian paused, as if to consider my feelings, before continuing calmly.

“What exactly did the cops ask you, and what did you say?”

“It wasn’t a long conversation.”

With a sigh, I remembered the events of that morning.

It was around noon when two police suddenly visited my office and informed me of Alan’s death.

One was a tall, thin man in his mid-thirties, and the other was a short, cheerful young man.

The younger man asked most of the questions, but the other man’s business card said “Inspector”, so I assumed he was leading the investigation.

“They asked me if I knew Alan and when I last saw him. Then they asked if he had any close friends or a mistress, and what I was doing at 10:30 p.m. the night before last.”

“I see. And what did you say?”

“I answered honestly. I told them that Alan was a friend and that we sometimes had lunch together. The last time I saw him was the day before yesterday when we had lunch together. I didn’t know much about his social circle, and that night I went to a bar for a drink and then went home, but I don’t remember what time I got home. I just woke up at home.”

“So you basically said you had no alibi.”

“What? Oh!” I jumped at the former cop’s words. “You asked for an alibi?”

“No way. Didn’t you know they were checking your alibi?”

“I wasn’t thinking about anything! I was in a panic.”

That’s why the atmosphere between them suddenly became tense after my answer.

“I was set up. Damn, what a despicable cop…!”

“They probably didn’t expect anyone not to understand the intent of those questions these days.”

Brian muttered in exasperation as he picked up the stainless steel French press.

He continued, pouring himself another generous cup without hesitation.

“Hey, Luke. How did you get home last night? If you were so drunk that you don’t remember, you shouldn’t have been driving.”

“I shouldn’t have been driving. But, yeah, my memory is so fuzzy, it’s almost embarrassing.”

“Isn’t it possible that someone drove you home? Or maybe arranged a taxi for you. That would prove your alibi.”

“If there was someone like that, I would have told the cops.”

After saying that with a pout, I felt a slight uneasiness and stopped moving.

Was I really alone that night?

The next morning I was sure that no one was in the room. But recently I vaguely remembered being carried into that room by someone. I could see the feet of the person carrying me, swaying in my vision. Shiny leather shoes, big size… It was a very blurry memory, but there was no doubt. Why had I forgotten?

Gathering the fragmented sensations together, I carefully recalled the events leading up to that moment-and I realized that the day I was carried by that person was the same day I told the police about. My memory had been cut off halfway through that day, and when I came to, I was being carried by someone.

I couldn’t help but scream.

“There was… I was definitely with someone that night, Brian!”