Get Famous First (1)
Fundamentally, the residents of Light City didn't trust the police much. There was a widespread notion among the citizens that "the cops have nothing to do," and it was common to hear people openly say they'd trust a hero over the police. In extreme cases, folks would call them "tax thieves" right to their faces.
"Oh, you're the police officers?"
"Yes, are you the reporter?"
"Yes."
Even so, if someone actually called the police, it was likely a truly ambiguous case. Too trivial to publicize and get hero help... but too infuriating to just let slide. It was the kind of oddly delicate situation where they'd borrow even a cat's paw to resolve it—that's when the police got their turn.
"Then, could you please explain the details?"
"Well, you see..."
A middle-aged woman sighed deeply as she opened the door to her first-floor apartment.
"Actually, my daughter's been acting a bit strange lately... I was hoping you could talk to her."
"Strange how? Could you give us more details?"
"Sure, well, here's what happened..."
The reason she'd called the police was this: She had a daughter who, for the past week, claimed to hear phantom noises every night and couldn't sleep a wink.
"Every night, she hears things like bugs buzzing in her ear or nails scraping a chalkboard and throws fits... But I don't hear a thing with my own ears. At first, I thought it was exam stress. But it's gotten worse—she's throwing things and acting completely out of her mind..."
The mother had started with sleeping pills and gentle coaxing. But today, when the girl started swinging scissors at thin air and trying to harm herself, the mother panicked and called the cops.
"So I was hoping you'd come in and calm her down. She won't listen to me, but if the officers give her a stern talking-to, maybe she'll settle?"
"So, you just want us to give her a scolding?"
"Yes. Like how the neighbors might complain—tell her to keep it down."
The mother didn't have high expectations of the police. She wasn't asking them to solve the problem, just to quiet her daughter enough not to bother the neighbors upstairs or down. She didn't fully trust cops anyway, and since it was her daughter's mental issue, what could they do?
"Hmm."
Park Eun-young, who'd been listening, turned slightly to Kang Jin-ho and murmured softly.
"Seems like no big deal, huh? Too bad, Jin-ho. Right?"
A flicker of disappointment crossed her crimson eyes—probably because she'd been buzzing with excitement on the way over, wondering what kind of case it was.
...Why is this woman even a cop?
Kang Jin-ho barely suppressed the urge to snap at the dopamine-addicted villain and whispered back.
"Well... we might be able to solve it."
With that, he followed the mother inside.
"???"
Park Eun-young's eyes widened in shock as she stared at his back. How do you solve insomnia?
**
"Excuse us. We got a report..."
"Get out! Get out!!!"
The moment Kang Jin-ho and Park Eun-young stepped inside, a large pillow flew from the inner room.
-Thwack.
"...Hmph."
Park Eun-young caught it effortlessly with one hand, her eyes cold as she stared at the daughter.
"...I said get out!"
The girl, looking a bit scared, clutched her head and slammed the door shut, locking it.
"A-are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's just a pillow."
The mother, watching from behind, was mortified and kept apologizing profusely. Park Eun-young smiled it off, but Kang Jin-ho felt a chill in that smile.
For some reason, he had the feeling that tonight—or any moment—a certain girl's head might roll.
"Excuse me! A question for you, ma'am!"
Sensing the girl's safety might be at risk, Kang Jin-ho stepped forward urgently. By now, he'd pieced it all together.
"When did this hysterical... symptom start?"
"Hmm... about a week ago?"
"Has your daughter done anything to wrong someone else? Even something minor."
"W-wrong someone?"
The mother couldn't hide her confusion. Why ask about grudges when her kid suddenly couldn't sleep?
"My girl's always so cheerful and lively... I don't think so. Her school friends all get along fine..."
"Really?"
Kang Jin-ho knelt on one knee and tapped the floor with his fist.
"This apartment—it's one of the older ones in Light City, right?"
"Yes, that's true..."
"That explains it. Poor soundproofing leads to lots of neighbor disputes. You said your daughter is lively, even dancing or singing at night... Wouldn't that bother the people downstairs?"
"Yes, I'm truly sorry about that... I've gone down a few times to apologize and brought food..."
"Who lives downstairs?"
"A young man, living alone..."
"He's probably the culprit."
"...?"
The mother frowned, tilting her head in confusion.
"What does the downstairs guy have to do with my daughter acting strange...?"
"People get sensitive without proper sleep. Your daughter's definitely not sleeping well."
"That's true, but..."
"I've thought about why. You didn't hear anything, but what if she really was hearing noises?"
"Huh...? Is that possible?"
"Yes. With low-grade telepathy, it is."
"!!!"
Telepathy was relatively rare in Light City, but also mocked for various reasons. Top-tier telepaths could direct operations, but mediocre ones were useless everywhere. Reading minds or chatting mentally? No. But shoving short words or noises into someone's brain? That they could do.
It was hard to create real value, so they weren't welcome anywhere.
"Low-grade telepaths can't read minds or hold conversations. But they can insert brief words or noises into others' brains."
Kang Jin-ho glanced at the door as he continued.
"The guy downstairs probably got fed up with the noise. He couldn't sleep because of it, so he retaliated the same way—shoving loud noises directly into your daughter's brain at night. That's why you hear nothing in the same house."
"Hmm... that could be."
The mother nodded unconsciously. No hard evidence, but the logic connected solidly. If the downstairs guy held a grudge and had telepathy... it fit perfectly.
"Hold on, Jin-ho. One question?"
Park Eun-young cut in suddenly, tapping his shoulder.
"Your explanation makes sense... but why telepathy specifically? Could be another power. And why assume it's the downstairs guy?"
Kang Jin-ho picked up the fallen pillow.
"When she threw this and went in, she didn't cover her ears—she clutched her head. If it was real noise, she'd plug her ears, not her head. Studies show prolonged telepathy exposure causes headaches."
"...Oh, really?"
"Yes. And assuming it's someone else, the goal seems 'maximize suffering'—points to a grudge. You said she's outgoing, so no enemies except unintentional noise complaints."
"Hmph... impressive."
Park Eun-young grinned, resisting the urge to clap. Individually, the clues were minor, even forced. But together? Convincing. Like a crooked drawing that looks good from afar.
Some might say, "Suspecting a citizen on such a scenario?" But Park Eun-young disagreed. Superpower crimes left no evidence unless you had the same power. Even then, "What if the hero lies?" Heroes solved them, sure—but regular cops? Rare cases started just like this: plausible scenarios, brute-force investigation, lucky catches. Evidence rarely stuck anyway.
The key was the suspicion's accuracy. To her, Kang Jin-ho's intuition was scarily spot-on. Maybe the sharpest she'd ever seen.
"Um... excuse me, are you really cops?"
The mother gaped too. In Light City, police were synonymous with incompetence. Real solves were for heroes—this kind of deduction? Unheard of.
"Our rookie's got skills."
Park Eun-young puffed up like she'd been praised, beaming. Her eyes dripped with delight as she eyed him like prey.
"Uh, um."
Kang Jin-ho averted his gaze from the intense stare and headed for the door.
"It's just a hypothesis for now. Let's go downstairs and talk. We can check his superpower registration—see if my guess holds."
Truth be told, Kang Jin-ho wasn't feeling bad. As he recalled, this minor case tied to a hero. Solving it now could net hero connections, clearing his remaining karma quota in one go. How could he not be pleased?