Chapter 1
Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford. From all the things this world had to offer, sleep was, albeit its necessity for human beings, one of the few unexplainable happenstances. A brain, specifically a human brain, continues to work, along with the heart and the only part truly resting appeared to be the shell of one's soul, the body it possesses. Excessive amounts of time are lost in the duration of our sleep, robbing us from the experiences this life has to offer. Relaxation should be endured for no longer than an hour, anything beyond it would result in fatigue. Our bodies were generated to function under most circumstances, even sleep-deprivation. It took years to form a rather fortunate habit out of it until he could remain consciousness twenty-three hours a day. Though the times might differ, there were no exceptions in this progress due to the extreme exhaustion coursing through his system constantly. Not even nightmares would occur, for his sleep provided him with nothing but complete blackness, which is known to be the deepest and most intense phase of sleeping, because the brain works through the daily received information precisely and effectively.
Half past three in the morning, the detective awoke from his slumber. A visit to the bathroom, avoiding any reflecting surfaces and with lanky fingers guiding him into the loose clothing followed as his usual routine. The night lamp dimly lit, enough for his wide eyes to absorb the rough colours of every object. He sat on his bed and exhaled slowly. A mysterious case rumoured through Japan, people dying of sudden heart attacks, yet showing no symptoms beforehand. As the world's most famous detective this had perked his interest. Something that was seemingly unsolvable, but with the certainty of a solution and perfectly shaped as a ridiculous myth. His eyes racked over the information sheets received from both the Japanese task force and his loyal adoptive father, Watari. Twenty-nine victims so far, three times more people estimated. A smile tugged at his lips. This was almost amusing. People could be so foolish when it came to unexplainable events. Screaming out to a God that could never be proven real, never longing for a logical conclusion.
If it hadn't been for a certain young boy, years ago, then he would have never believed any supernatural stories. If it hadn't been for Beyond.
The black haired got up and skimmed over to the window to open it for fresh air. He was aware he violated one of the rules he set up with Watari by opening the window at such a late hour. His adoptive father cared more about L's security than his own. Sometimes the detective feared he only tried to secure his intelligence and genius' safety rather than the man himself, but he had no way of knowing. Next to his desk situated a cart with various kinds of chocolate cakes and strawberry desserts. As an additional request, a cherry cake decorated the centre of the food tray. Watari ensured that one tray always arrived in the time of L's sleep, because otherwise no one was allowed to enter the room during the day. The detective watched himself carefully in the mirror. Considering the amount of sugar he ate daily, L was clearly underweight. The lack of outside activities caused a pale skin, which contrasted his raven black hair from his defined, white face. He disliked looking at himself. L hated seeing the man he was, the life he lived, the people killed thanks to him. L was cat, sweet and nice until they would turn into a black panther at night. At the end of the day all that was left of him were his failures, his unjust decisions of who to save and who not to save. Despite this, he could never change. A selfish man as him could never become the all helping hero. He considered himself the world's sidekick, acting upon complete cluelessness of the real hero.
This would explain his reputation as of now. Some people idolized him, believed his every word, trusted him with his choices and would do anything just to hear his voice; others thought the world would be better off without a picky detective when it comes to human lives. L agreed to both and to neither. None of them could ever experience the things L has gone through to end up where he was at this point of his miserable life. He'd probably seen more death than most of the world's innocent population. The heartbreaking reality hit a spot inside him, causing him to sigh and run his long fingers through his wild hair. A soft breeze blew into the room and L breathed in the fresh night air. Now he had to deal with this case of unexplainable deaths, while other people were enjoying their time with a partner or friends.
The detective moved away from the window, back to his bed, where he sat and nibbled on a tasty piece of strawberry shortcake. Something caused this great number of deaths by heart attacks. It could have been a virus going around, but everything has already been tested. The peculiar fact about the case was the choice of victim. They had all been criminals, either already under arrest or wanted by the great organisations such as the FBI. What motive would the killer have? What kind of weapon allowed him to perform murder in a large amount, while going unnoticed?
Licking off the whip cream on his fingertips, he took a glance around the room. All of a sudden he felt something grab his ankle, twisting it into a painful position and yanking him down to the ground. L was quick to react, landing on the ground with his hands in a push up motion to flip and kick the person's hand up against the bed frame. This caused them to free L's leg, who rolled backwards and stopped in a crouched form. His eyes widened when he saw the person come out from underneath the bed.