Having discovered that the Miniature Model Killer had previously communicated with victims online, the case now had a clear target.

What the average person doesn't realize is that while the internet may seem secretive, that's only true for professionals. For non-professionals, their supposed secrecy is like a firefly in the dark; if they leave a trace, they can be tracked back to reality.

A few years ago, in New York, the FBI had already tracked the perpetrator's IP address. If only they hadn't been a step too slow, and if the perpetrator hadn't been so covert in real life, severing all ties, this story wouldn't exist.

But now things were different. The killer had re-emerged, unaware of their fatal flaw. This could be a golden opportunity to end them!

「...」

Daisy was skilled in this area.

Dean immediately had Holz transfer the account information obtained from Johnny Dennison to Daisy.

The forensic department also had professionals in this field. But Dean knew he wouldn't stay at the detective bureau forever, nor would the forensic department always be at his beck and call. Therefore, he felt it necessary to train and develop his own team in advance.

In the afternoon, Daisy was busy at work.

Dean, with his feet up, chatted casually with Cheston En about his experiences since joining the FBI.

A worn-out Harry, supported by Carlo, who was struggling to suppress his laughter, finally dragged himself back to the detective bureau.

Seeing Harry's exhausted state, Dean was somewhat surprised. "Harry, didn't I say to call off the operation? Why do you look like you've been wrung dry?"

Harry's expression was bitter. "I had just finished when I saw your call."

"WOW!" Dean whistled. "Well, congratulations on finding a shortcut in life. I just hope you don't get too comfortable and decide to quit; after all, you're my ace in the hole."

He could see Harry hadn't gotten what he wanted. However, that didn't stop him from playing dumb while offering some empty words of encouragement, painting a grand picture for his subordinate to show his supposed appreciation.

Daisy also paused her work. Biting on a lollipop, she looked on curiously.

Had Harry found a long-term meal ticket? Pure envy!

Harry chuckled awkwardly without speaking. He tiredly took his seat and stared blankly at his drained and haggard reflection on the black computer screen.

Seeing this, Daisy's gossip instinct kicked in. Looking curiously at Carlo, who was still trying to suppress his laughter, she whispered, "What happened?"

Carlo, who had clearly been holding it in the entire way, took a deep breath to suppress the uncontrollable laughter on his face. In a tone of feigned sympathy, he said, "Lycoris, the victim Johnny Dennison's ex-wife, exposed Harry's detective identity right after he... put in all that effort. She said she didn't like being deceived, left Harry fifty US dollars for taxi fare, and took off."

HISSS! Daisy inhaled sharply.

No wonder Harry looked exhausted both physically and mentally, devoid of the joy one might associate with being a kept man.

He had been used by a fifty-year-old woman and got nothing out of it!

She could almost see a dream chaser's aspirations being ruthlessly shattered by reality.

Dean also looked at Harry sympathetically. Lycoris is a nasty piece of work! he thought. She used Harry and then insulted him with a measly fifty US dollars—not even a hundred! The woman's heartless!

Having finally vented the amusement he'd bottled up the entire journey, Carlo said with feigned concern, "Boss Dean, I think Harry deserves a bigger bonus this month. He needs some moral support from us."

"That makes sense," Dean said with a mischievous smile. "Since you're so concerned about Harry, how about I give him your bonus?"

Carlo was picking up bad habits.

Carlo: "..."

Nearby, Cheston En watched the harmonious group with a touch of envy. Before joining the FBI, he had imagined himself elevated above others, finally getting the chance to do what he had always dreamed of since childhood.

But reality hit him hard. Low pay, lots of work, and being treated as cannon fodder—that was the life of a low-level agent. The ones who truly had it made were those high-ranking agents and supervisors who had climbed the ladder, using their status to rub shoulders with the powerful and famous.

If only I could work under Dean too, the thought surfaced for the first time in the young, still naïve agent's mind.

He lowered his head, hesitating. Should he approach Dean after this case to express his desire? Yet, he worried Dean might look down on him because of what happened before.

For a moment, Cheston En's face was a mask of indecision.

Unnoticed by him, a pair of eyes, carrying a hint of surprise, flickered over him.

「...」

As evening approached, Dean, the big spender, generously ordered takeout for everyone. The money he had, after being handled by the New York Mafia's Lucchese Family, had incurred only minor taxes. With over ten million US dollars left, Dean had plenty to splurge on for a long time.

Perhaps motivated by the food, Daisy managed to find what Dean was looking for just as the takeout arrived at the precinct.

She called Dean over to the computer. "Dean, I've searched all of Johnny Dennison's social media accounts and the websites he logged into. I found that before he began to create lesbian-themed works, he was obsessed with online mini-game chat rooms for a while!"

"Online mini-game chat rooms?"

"Yes, similar to the King game, but more privacy-oriented. However, because it was so long ago, Johnny Dennison might have cleared his cache or history, so I can't find the old chat records. But I found this deep within his computer's folders."

With that, Daisy opened a computer file. "Johnny Dennison probably had many secrets he couldn't share with those around him, so he used his computer like a diary, often recording his thoughts and complaints in a hidden folder."

The file she opened was a monologue dated over three years ago:

"This is the first time I've met someone who truly understands me.

"He's like a lighthouse in the mist, guiding my little boat, which had lost its way in life, toward the hope of land again.

"His confident assertion that I could succeed filled me with self-assurance.

"There really are very few lesbian-themed works right now.

"And… finding a lesbian couple for close observation… is it like scientific research?

"This is a very unique suggestion.

"Spending money on promotion hasn't yielded much result.

"This approach also has risks; it could become a stain on my future.

"Perhaps I should take this friend's suggestion.

"It's just that his online alias is really strange.

"Demon!

"Such a kind-hearted person actually calls himself Demon.

"I guess he must have an unpleasant past.

"If I achieve success, I must make sure to meet Mister Demon and offer him redemption and warmth.

"The only thing that puzzles me is that when I tentatively brought this up, he said that if I succeed, it would be a help to him.

"He's truly kind!

"Thank you, Internet, for letting me meet Mister Demon..."

「...」

"Demon?" Dean's lips curled upward. What a fitting nickname.

Johnny Dennison's diary was an unexpected boon; it confirmed Dean's suspicions. The Miniature Model Killer was indeed selecting targets online, then turning these disheartened 'dream chasers' into his 'creations' to satisfy his dark desires. This also explained why he told Johnny Dennison that his success would be a help to him.

The seeds he'd sown had borne fruit. And they would be delicious to consume.

"Johnny Dennison probably left over a thousand diary entries. This is one I found by cross-referencing the times he frequently logged into those chat rooms. It'll probably take at least an hour or two to go through all of them," Daisy pouted, looking expectantly at Dean.

So many?

Seeing Daisy's expression, Dean said, a little exasperated, "Alright, alright. Go get something to eat. I'll look through these myself."

"Hehe, you're the best, Dean!" Leaving behind an insincere compliment, Daisy quickly dashed off towards the conference room.

In the blink of an eye, Dean was alone in the office.

He lit a cigarette and began to read, starting with the diary entry Daisy had found and continuing from there.

Going by the Miniature Model Killer's MO, the next victim would appear tomorrow. Dean might not care about the 'metabolism' of the American people, but he also didn't want someone operating in his jurisdiction, challenging his authority as a detective captain! If the perpetrator was foolish enough to choose the Central Precinct's jurisdiction for their second victim, Dean wouldn't hesitate to gift them a steel-jacketed bullet!

「...」

While Dean was working hard on the case, at the top of a tall building, the atmosphere was tense between two figures, each behind cover and armed, illuminated by the city's neon glow.

In the distance, the beam from the gigantic lighthouse on the coastline pierced the night sky, guiding ships navigating the darkness.

A blinking light passed low in the sky. The silhouette of an airplane, intermittently visible through the clouds, disrupted the delicate tension between the two.

"Who exactly are you?" the slim, dark-haired young man, his face betraying his unease, finally lost his patience and spoke first.

He prided himself on his ability to stay hidden. Yet, the woman opposite him had appeared as if from nowhere, like a ghost. She wasn't from the police, had revealed his deepest secrets, and now simply wanted him to go somewhere with her.

This made the man, who always considered himself the hunter, very uneasy.

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