BATTER 9

It feels like the afterimage of a beautiful dream, endlessly wavering and softly blurring at the edges. Suddenly, the thought occurs that the light is wearing a faint smile. Is this truly an image formed behind the retina? Or is it a delirium shown by a suffocating brain?

Maybe it’s an angel. I’ve lived a sincere and diligent life, after all. Ah, Baron Lin, you worked hard. To think I’d actually get to see Heaven. I thought for sure I wouldn’t make it, considering how “diligent” I was with my sex life. Then again, maybe He saw that as its own form of community service. Hahaha. Hahaha…

Ha!

Bullshit. Baron Lin believes in neither angels nor Heaven. He trusts only in what he can grab, pull, and entangle right now. He believes only in existing, contracting muscle, supporting bone, and flowing blood. Only in surging adrenaline and burning entrails—the nerve strands writhing eerily for the sake of survival! Baron forced his eyes wide open. The veins in his bloodshot whites stood out in stark red.

Dripping blood-stained froth from his mouth, he gathered every ounce of his remaining strength and reached out. To seize the bones of that light. From the edges of his vision, everything began to char black, shrinking into a single point. Finally, when the world became nothing more than a tiny dot, Baron felt a vague, soft, and warm pressure. It was, perhaps, the touch of salvation.

✟

The pale glow of a lightbulb hangs like an angel’s halo—right around the smooth head of the Police Chief. However, he is neither particularly solemn nor holy. Clutching a set of directives instead of an Annunciation, he wore an awkward smile as if facing a problem far too difficult to handle. To avoid making his superior’s status look even more ridiculous, Baron asked back in a smooth tone.

“What was that?”

“I also think it’s a bit of an irrational decision, but it seems the disciplinary committee finds you quite unpleasant.”

“I figured as much. They are the same people who tried to frame a sincere detective—and an undeniable victim—as the culprit, after all.”

Baron let out a light laugh. It was thanks to the grand black comedy that greeted him the moment he was discharged and returned to duty. If this were a sitcom, there would have been boos or applause. Unfortunately, Baron Lin’s life was reality, and the only audience member who would laugh at this absurdity was Baron Lin himself. So, he laughed alone.

“A demotion, when a promotion wouldn’t even be enough. And here I was, looking up restaurant reservations to treat everyone to a meal.”

Baron Lin survived. And he received a demotion.

Detective Baron Lin and Detective Liz Kamara, who were suddenly ambushed in the Lower City, were narrowly rescued. However, the higher-ups placed the responsibility for this ambush squarely on Baron. They claimed his personal judgment and solo action while on vacation caused a massive loss of police resources. At this point, Baron reflected on the meaning of “loss.” He thought of the investigator who had visited him while he was still recovering, and the hidden intent behind his questions.

“Do you also believe it was me who shot Liz, Sir?”

Still smiling, Baron asked the question. He didn’t need to press his ear to the wall to know what kind of rumors were circulating within the department. The suspicion that Baron Lin was the one who attacked Detective Liz drifted eerily among his colleagues. The suspicion was: why would a detective on vacation bother meddling in someone else’s case, and why did he drag a colleague to the Lower City—a border zone—without even filing a report?

When he overheard a story that he had been swayed during an undercover op and was acting as a spy, he ended up laughing. He stood behind the guys who were pissing in the urinals and said, “Actually, no,” and they were so startled they soaked their hands. He hoped they washed their hands properly on the way out.

“I put my life on the line for the job, and I come out of treatment only to find rumors that Baron Lin was a spy. It’s a bit upsetting. Since it’s come to this, maybe I should quit the force and become a comedian. I’ll use it as material for stand-up. I’ll see you on a streaming service soon. By the way, Sir, is it okay if I use you as a subject for my bits?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Detective Lin.”

The Chief frowned. It wasn’t like he was being particularly sarcastic. Baron let his eyebrows droop low, as if he were dying of injustice.

“No, really, if I were a spy, would I have slept with my boss? That’s truly inappropriate and makes me want to gag. I’m saying I prefer horizontal relationships whenever possible.”

“I don’t really want to hear the specifics of your investigative methods or your private life…”

The Chief leaned back in his chair in disgust. The sound of the leather seat stretching under his weight was particularly clear. In the silence, strength gathered around Baron’s eyelids and forehead. The muscles covering his eyes pulled taut, making the borders of his brown pupils stand out sharply.

“Then what kind of story would you like to hear specifically? It seems like things that should be moving forward specifically aren’t moving at all. You said you’re closing the investigation because you couldn’t secure evidence or testimony. Even though this is a case where a colleague from our very own New-New York Police Department was almost murdered. I told the investigator, but the person presumed to be a witness…”

“That’s enough. There are many other cases we need to focus on. And it’s difficult for us to intervene in incidents that happen in the Lower City. We need evidence to even start an investigation, but we don’t even have that.”

“If it’s evidence, I’ll tell you again. If you’ve forgotten, I’ll give my statement as many times as it takes.”

Baron filled his sutured lungs deep with oxygen. Then, squaring his broad chest like a well-trained soldier, he continued speaking rapidly.

“Detective Baron Lin, beginning case briefing. The suspect is approximately 5.8 feet tall, has a prosthetic leg presumed to be metallic on the lower half of his body, and judging by the reflex reactions during the shootout, there is a high possibility he recently underwent transplant surgery. There is at least one accomplice, and…”

“Stop!”

“…given that he didn’t perform a finishing shot, it is considered possible that the original intent was not murder, or that an interfering factor intervened. Since traces of emergency first aid were found on me and Detective Liz Kamara—the two victims who were unconscious at the time of discovery—the validity of an ‘interfering factor’ is deemed particularly high. Therefore, it is necessary to focus efforts on finding witnesses. I am requesting a reconsideration of the request that was rejected in the previous report, Sir.”

Baron finished his piece firmly, barely taking a breath. His eyes, wearing a loose trace of a smile, stared clearly at the Chief. His eyes, with their deep shadows and half-lidded shape, gave off an insincere or decadent impression, but beyond the eyelids, there was something like the cross-section of cracked ice. A kind of hard, smooth smile reminiscent of dolls with plastic cheeks and artificial lashes always curved at the perfect angle. Finally, the Chief let out a deep sigh.

“Detective Lin. You are a truly sincere detective.”

“Thank you. I think the same thing every time I look in the mirror.”

“But you should know that being sincere doesn’t mean being competent.”

“Ah, now that’s a fresh perspective.”

“Take some time to rest and meet with Detective Liz. Who knows, maybe her condition will improve if she sees you.”

Liz, who had been with him that day, survived despite a gunshot wound to the back of her head. She suffered temporary total blindness but recovered her sight during her hospitalization. However, she had absolutely no memory of what happened that day they went down to the Lower City. Not the damp underpass, not Minari’s shop, nor the bullets that quietly pierced her skin.

The doctor in charge explained it as the aftermath of brain damage, and Liz filed for a leave of absence for rehabilitation. Even if the after-effects remained, she would likely return to duty right on time. That was just like her. However, the face Liz made when she said she was sorry for not remembering the culprit was frighteningly awkward. Looking at Liz’s face on the day she was discharged… he thought it was “frightening.”

Anyway, what Baron was left with now was a demotion and a three-month suspension.

“Think of it as getting some rest after a big ordeal. It’s only three months, so cool your head in the meantime.”