The One-Dollar Solution
The detective let out a hollow laugh, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Yet the sharp eye that had instantly seen through his profession was nothing short of remarkable. Figuring he might as well play along, he dropped heavily into the chair across from him.
Thud.
He pulled a crumpled one-dollar bill from his pocket and set it on the table.
"Alright then. Go ahead and talk. What exactly is my 'problem' supposed to be?"
Watching the detective ask with a skeptical, testing edge, Donovan smoothly swept the bill off the desk and pocketed it.
"Things aren't going well, are they? Well, I don't know exactly what it is. Don't care either."
Donovan leaned forward and carefully studied the detective's face.
His gaze settled on the space between the detective's eyebrows—the Palace of Insight that governed perception and intuition.
The energy in the Palace of Insight is perfectly clear. The force trying to push outward on its own is strong too. Proof that the detective's own investigative skill and instincts are excellent.
But the real problem lay elsewhere.
From the very top of the forehead—the Heavenly Court that represented superiors—a murky, sticky energy was flowing down, crushing that clear Palace of Insight from above.
Having finished his reading, Donovan slowly opened his mouth.
"But why it isn't working is crystal clear."
"······What?"
Donovan tapped the table and gave a short laugh.
"It's not that things aren't going well because you lack ability. It's because someone above you is blocking the way. Your direct superior."
"······What? The Chief?"
"Yeah. You haven't lost your touch, and it isn't bad luck either. The problem isn't you—it's the higher-ups."
"······!"
The detective's mouth fell open.
It felt as if someone had just smashed a hammer into the back of his skull.
All those recent memories of higher-ups rejecting perfectly solid reports or issuing absurd orders that sent him on wild-goose chases.
Because he had never once imagined it could be the Chief he had always trusted and followed, he had spent all that time digging in the wrong places—those wasted efforts flashed through his mind in rapid succession.
In the instant a sharp light of suspicion and realization cut through the detective's dazed eyes—
Snap—!
Donovan flicked his fingers lightly.
"Cheer up. Now that you know the cause, all that's left is to fix it."
Donovan's gaze carefully swept over the detective's face once more.
The energy in the cheekbones that represented fighting spirit and authority wasn't bad. But the black aura pressing down from the forehead—the mark of superiors—was far too thick and heavy.
If he just charges in relying only on his own strength, he'll get crushed under the higher-ups' power and won't even be able to collect his bones.
Having finished his assessment, Donovan calmly delivered the hard truth instead of empty hope.
"You can't solve this alone, so don't even think about charging in head-on."
The detective's pupils trembled slightly.
The anger that had been boiling from the truth only moments earlier seemed to slam into the wall of harsh reality.
Donovan spoke with a calm face.
"If the force pressing down from above is strong, you just go even higher, right?"
"······What?"
The detective's brow furrowed hard. In a police organization, internal whistleblowing was the ultimate taboo.
An instinctive rejection surged up.
"Are you telling me to ignore the entire chain of command and snitch to headquarters like some rat?"
Toward the detective who growled in protest, Donovan shrugged and leaned back leisurely against the chair.
His gaze settled on both edges of the detective's forehead—the Heavenly Window that represented the favor of superiors.
The center of the forehead that marked the direct superior was completely clogged with rotten energy, yet along the edges a thin, clear light stretched out long and far.
It meant a powerful benefactor of great influence.
"I don't usually recommend something this dangerous to ordinary people. It's like throwing an egg at a rock."
"······."
"But you can do it. You seem to have forgotten, but I can see a powerful ally for you. Grab that connection and you can flip the entire board in one move."
The detective's pupils trembled again.
A powerful ally was visible?
What kind of nonsense was that?
Unable to find words to refute him, the detective kept his mouth shut tightly as Donovan tapped the desk and waved a hand lightly.
"How you handle it is your choice. Consultation over."
The detective couldn't answer at all.
Clenching his trembling fists, he rose as if possessed, took Lily's hand, and walked out of the shop.
The next morning, a hollow laugh slipped from the detective's lips as he headed into the Violent Crimes Team office.
"Ha. What the hell was I even thinking yesterday?"
The day before, his mind had gone completely blank from shock, but after a night's sleep and some rational thought, it all seemed ridiculous.
The fact that he had almost fallen for that nonsense about his own direct superior blocking his path stung his pride.
He wiped the one-dollar fortune from his mind and threw himself into the unsolved murder case the way he always did.
He stayed up all night digging up new leads, then marched into the Chief's office full of certainty.
What he got back was the same cold rejection.
"You're looking in the wrong direction! This is a high-profile case the media is watching. Don't go stirring things up unless you're absolutely sure!"
The Chief's roar sent papers scattering into the air.
Among them were the horrific crime-scene photos of a victim who had been butchered and dumped like an animal.
The detective gathered the investigation materials with a devastated face.
A human being had been slaughtered by something less than human, yet all the Chief seemed to care about was the media's gaze and his own self-preservation.
Blocked again.
He simply couldn't understand it.
Why is he so desperate to shut down every investigation that heads in this direction?
Just as despair rose to his throat—
It's not that things aren't going well because you lack ability. It's because someone above you is blocking the way.
Donovan's firm voice echoed in his ears.
"No way······."
The detective's eyes flashed sharp.
Instead of giving up, he deliberately defied the Chief's orders and began digging even more obsessively into the path that had been blocked.
If there was even the slightest chance the fortune-teller had been right, then whatever lay beyond the wall the Chief was so desperately guarding had to be the real thing.
And a few days later—
The detective buried his face in both hands inside the car where he had been staking out.
"This is insane······."
The fortune-teller had been right.
He hadn't been incompetent.
The moment he dug into the direction the Chief had blocked, the scattered puzzle pieces locked together perfectly.
A murder so brutal it was hard to believe a human being could have done it. He had finally grabbed the tail of the real killer who had committed that atrocity.
At the same time, a chill ran down his spine. With evidence and circumstances this clear lying everywhere, the Chief had spent all that time inventing every possible excuse to obstruct the investigation.
There was no other conclusion: the police chief himself had been protecting the perpetrators.
He wanted to storm into the Chief's office right then with the evidence and demand a warrant on the spot.
But the moment he tried to rise from his seat, cold reality seized his ankle hard.
Wait. If I report this to the Chief?
The outcome was obvious. The investigation wouldn't move forward—he would just get blocked again with some forced excuse right there on the spot.
Or worse, the entire case might be taken away from him this time.
If that happened, the real killer whose trail he had finally caught would simply slip away under the Chief's protection.
His rage had nothing to do with his own safety or career.
The thought that he might permanently lose the real killer if he stayed on this path was driving him mad.
In that moment of despair—
If the force pressing down from above is strong, you just go even higher, right?
The one-dollar solution flashed through his mind like lightning.
To lock the real killer away for certain, he needed a force even greater—one strong enough to leapfrog the rotten Chief and twist the leash around his neck.
And even for that, the fortune-teller had given him advice.
You seem to have forgotten, but I can see a powerful ally for you. Grab that connection and you can flip the entire board in one move.
The detective frantically flipped through his old notebook.
Then one number caught his eye.
Years ago, when he had won the NYPD shooting competition by an overwhelming margin—
A top-ranking executive from the Investigation Bureau at headquarters had taken notice of his marksmanship and handed him a business card.
"Ha. This is really crazy."
He swallowed a hollow laugh and dialed the number written in the notebook without hesitation.
"······I've obtained decisive evidence on a real killer who absolutely must be caught."
"Quite stimulating for a call after so long. Congratulations. But why are you reporting this directly to me instead of the Chief?"
"······Because I can't rule out a connection at the higher level. Every time I dug in this direction, the investigation was blocked at the Chief's desk."
The detective swallowed dryly and laid it out honestly.
"But I don't have direct evidence of the Chief's corruption. All I have is evidence of the real killer."
As a detective he had caught the criminal; now he was asking headquarters to examine the festering wound inside the department itself—a heavy, unspoken plea.
Another brief silence flowed through the receiver. Then the Investigation Bureau Chief's relaxed voice slid into his ear.
"Hmm. Fine. I'll look into whether that suspicion is true."
The next day, at the precinct station right in the heart of New York.
A suffocating silence and heavy air had settled over the Violent Crimes Team office that should have been noisy.
"This way, Chief."
Clack. Clack.
The Chief who until a few days ago had reigned as the king of the precinct was being led out by Internal Affairs Bureau agents from headquarters.
The detectives of the Violent Crimes Team stood frozen in place, staring blankly at the scene.
"Insane······. The Chief was taking kickbacks from a criminal organization?"
"I knew it. Fuck, we should've realized it last month when he threw a fit ordering us to release the guys we'd already caught. All those days and nights we wasted were because of him."
Police organizations were notorious for protecting their own, but this case had crossed that line into the worst kind of betrayal.
He had deliberately twisted the investigative net of the detectives risking their lives in the field so that criminals could escape.
That was why not a single officer looked at the Chief with any sympathy.
"But who the hell snitched? Looking at how headquarters brought the tactical team straight in, it doesn't seem like it came from inside our precinct."
"You think this is the kind of size you can just snitch on? From what I saw, the Investigation Bureau at headquarters went all out. They even came with the warrants perfectly prepared."
The murmuring detectives' gazes naturally drifted to one empty desk in the corner of the office.
It was the seat of the veteran team leader who headed the Violent Crimes Team.
"Ha, the one I feel sorry for is our team leader. He took every bit of the Chief's crap from the bottom and got run ragged."
"Exactly. He got summoned to headquarters first thing this morning—they're probably grilling him over the Chief's corruption until the dust flies."
The detectives let out deep sighs as they looked at their team leader's empty seat.
They firmly believed their poor team leader had gotten caught in a power struggle among the higher-ups and was currently sweating buckets under interrogation at headquarters.
At the same time, at NYPD Headquarters.
Contrary to the detectives' pitiful expectations, the team leader was sitting on a plush top-grade leather sofa being served steaming high-end coffee.
"Is your shooting still as good as ever?"
At the sudden personal question, the team leader, who had been sitting tensely on the sofa, flinched and lifted his head.
Across from him sat a man who had just closed a thick file folder, wearing a relaxed smile.
It was the Investigation Bureau Chief—the top-tier heavyweight who oversaw every investigation in the New York Police Department.
Excluding the civilian Police Commissioner appointed by the mayor, he was the absolute power ranked third among uniformed officers—someone you barely dared look at.
A true "higher-up" who could swat a precinct chief like a fly with a single finger.
"Ah, yes. Well······."
"I was fairly confident in my own shooting, so losing the gold medal was quite a shock. Thanks to that, I've remembered the team leader's name very clearly."
The Investigation Bureau Chief gazed at him with eyes full of goodwill and continued in a low, weighty voice.
"But it turns out your shooting skill wasn't the only good thing. Your instincts are excellent too. Dead-on every time."
"······."
"The Chief was cleverly doctoring documents to cover for criminals······. No one at headquarters noticed. And even your own team members were completely fooled by the Chief's orders and investigating the wrong places, I hear?"
The Investigation Bureau Chief looked at him with a thoroughly pleased expression and smiled leisurely.
"You must have an exceptionally skilled informant. Or else your natural nose for criminals is simply outstanding."
"······."
"Ah. Come to think of it, this incident has left the precinct chief's seat vacant."
"······Yes. That's right."
The team leader swallowed dryly and answered briefly.
Precinct chief.
It wasn't just some mid-level police post.
It was the head who commanded hundreds of heavily armed officers like his own limbs and controlled the public safety of the very heart of New York, where astronomical amounts of money and crowds poured in every day.
A seat of power so immense that, like the previous chief, one could completely bury even the horrific crimes of a major organization if one so desired.
It was, in effect, the position of "king of the district" that held full jurisdiction over the middle of Times Square—the crossroads of the world.
Starting tonight, bloody lobbying and dirty power struggles would no doubt break out among the police leadership to claim that empty chief's seat.
As the team leader was privately chewing over the bitter nature of power, the Investigation Bureau Chief set down his teacup and spoke quietly.
"This isn't something that ends with just one chief being removed. The entire command structure of that precinct, including the current deputy chief, is now under internal investigation. We need to confirm how far they were involved in this case."
"······."
"That means their command system won't be able to function normally for a while. I was having a headache over who to put in place to clean things up right away—but it seems I no longer need to."
It looked like the personnel decision had already been made.
Then unexpected words came out.
"From headquarters' perspective, the only person we can trust right now in that entire precinct is you, Team Leader."
"······Excuse me?"
The Investigation Bureau Chief laced his fingers together and grinned at the veteran team leader.
"For the time being, would you be willing to take on the role of acting precinct chief?"
"······What? M-me?!"
At the Investigation Bureau Chief's bombshell proposal that completely shattered the chain of command and seniority, the team leader's mouth fell wide open.