Copyright disclaimer: I think I'm running out of jokes. What do I do? 도와주세요! You know what would help? The very fact that I simply do not own the Legend of Zelda. Actually, that doesn't really help...

CHAPTER 14: Cigarettes and demons

"You're off the case." To be greeted by such a statement as soon as I entered Zelda's office, well, of course it wouldn't register immediately.

And then it did register.

"I... I'm what?"

"You're off the case. I'm giving it to Pipit, don't worry about the paperwork."

"Please, I have new leads—"

"Give them to Pipit."

"Why am I off the case?" I asked nervously. She had been looking over a pile of papers, but she sighed and placed them on her desk, looking at me.

"I do regret doing it, I assure you. But I also regret sending you undercover when you obviously weren't prepared." I couldn't say anything. "You know that failure is not looked upon kindly here, but considering your status in the company, your consequence will only be working on minor cases."

"How long?" I asked.

"A month," she said. In a month, I could solve ten cases. I would punish myself by working endlessly and aim for fifteen. "You are dismissed," she said.

She did not say "Have a nice day" like she usually did.

I hadn't been at SkyCorp for months, and I'd expected everything to be different. Nothing had changed, however, and I felt out of place. Perhaps I was the one that was different.

"Hey, Link, how've you been?" I ran into Karane in the elevator.

"Fine, you?"

"I'm great. How was going undercover?" I had yet to figure out how to answer the question, so by default, I took on a self-deprecating tone.

"I didn't have the ability to complete it," I said. "I have a new case, I'll see you later." She looked surprised, but I was at Fi's floor to give her all of the evidence that had cumulated over almost half a year. I walked out of the elevator.

"I will fax it to Pipit while I enter it into the system. You can put the recording into his mailbox on your way out." We exchanged manila folders; the one I handed to her was overflowing with papers while the one she handed me was thin and had a small packet inside.

"Thank you, Fi," I said. "I'm sorry."

"This isn't too much work," she said with a smile. "Good luck."

It wasn't what I was apologizing for, but I'd take it anyway.

Most of the cases I'd be working on would be homicide cases. Originally, my training centered on it, but Zelda surmised I could do other kinds of cases as well.

I was glad that Zelda put me on cases that I had extensive training for because I'd be able to finish them quickly using my experience. However, looking forward to homicide investigations was a morbid thought indeed, so I folded the thought into the back of my mind.

547 Faron Street. The bodies of a young man and a young woman were found in the garbage bin, mutilated past the point of recognition. The registered residents of the home were on vacation, and had yet to return. The neighbor that had discovered the dead bodies is a middle-aged, single businesswoman.

I had my suspicions before even starting the case, and thought of possibilities as I walked to the house. My thoughts were interrupted by my phone buzzing in my pocket. Fi was the only person that called me, so I'd assumed it was her when I picked up.

"Hello," I said.

"Hello," the definitely masculine, definitely not Fi, definitely Gear voice on the other line responded.

I was keen to hang up, but I needed to know how he'd gotten my number first.

"How did you—"

"Of course I hacked into your phone while you were sleeping. I could not find your porn folder. I am quite eager to know what you masturbate to, however, so won't you tell me?"

How could anyone be that blunt and vulgar at nine o'clock in the morning? I was speechless.

"I don't do that," I said, trying to keep my voice down. I was about ready to scream at the top of my lungs.

"You are lying," he replied.

"I'm not," I began, "and I don't need to prove myself to you. Don't call me, I'm blocking you."

"Best of luck at trying," he said smugly, just as I hung up.

He had saved himself as "Gorgeous and noble with impeccable physical prowess". I never thought I'd meet such a narcissist—there was no way he was joking. I tapped on it, and there was supposed to be a red button that said "Block this person," but it was gray and wouldn't let me tap it.

I changed his name in my phone to "Vulgar demon of wrath and bane of my existence" and continued walking to 547 Faron Street.

Faron Street was in the business and shopping-heavy part of Central. It was where the high society, filthy rich people lived, and it showed: even though the snow was covering a lot of it, the glittering stores and tall, angular buildings gave much away.

At the door of the brick row house, there stood a middle-aged decorated police officer. There was bright yellow crime scene tape all over.

"'Lo, can I help you?" he said.

I showed him my SkyCorp ID. "I'm here to investigate," I said. "Aren't you cold?"

"Just a bit," he said, puffing air into his hands to warm them up.

"You can come in as long as you don't touch the evidence," I told him.

We walked in, and a thick, putrid stench met us immediately. SkyCorp had already marked everything, and I had the pictures and explanation of evidence with me in the folder Fi had given me. I came to the crime scene to see everything for myself.

In the front hallway, there was nothing out of the ordinary, but in the kitchen, everything was out of the ordinary. There was blood all over the place. Handprints and slashes on the walls, kitchen utensils strewn across the floor. There were thick clumps of hair covered in dried blood in the sink, and a pack of matches there too.

I dialed Fi quickly.

"Have they analyzed the DNA yet?"

"I'll get back to you."

I looked at the photos hanging on the wall in the front hallway. There was a family of four: husband, wife, young son, older daughter. They all had blonde hair, save for the daughter, whose hair was black. It almost looked like the hair in the sink, but I couldn't be sure until Fi called me back.

"Do you think they wanted to burn the hair or burn the house down?" I'd forgotten that the police officer was there. I didn't think either. Most of the matches were missing from the pack, and when I went out of the back door to the alleyway, there were twenty stubbed out cigarettes on the ground.

"I'm not sure," I told the officer. The bodies were discovered in the alleyway when a neighbor had accidentally knocked over the trash can and the bodies of the victims fell out. She'd called the police immediately, but I couldn't be sure because I didn't have the timeline worked out yet.

The victims estimated time of death was approximately 8:48, but the police didn't get the call until 10:36. It could mean that the woman was really taking her trash out, but trash night was on Thursdays, and it had all happened on a Sunday.

"Good morning," I said to the woman. "I'm detective Link from SkyCorp, I'm here to ask you a few questions."

She didn't look surprised, and said "Come in." She sounded like a smoker, but it could have been that her voice was naturally raspy.

"Do you smoke, ma'am?"

"Of course not," she said. I noted that her wavy black hair was the same color of that in the sink.

"Where do you work?"

"I own a boutique on Eighth Street."

"Do you have kids?"

"No." I glanced at a picture sitting on a side table. The woman I was speaking to was much younger, and holding a baby with a curly cloud of black hair.

"What is your relation to your neighbors?"

"We're just neighbors."

"What were you doing from six o'clock to ten thirty on Sunday?"

"At six, I had dinner, then I took a shower. After that I watched a movie, and it ended around twelve." She was lying.

"What did you have for dinner?"

"W-what?" I repeated myself. "Oh, the question surprised me. I had spaghetti."

"What movie was it?" Her eyes quickly darted to the right and back to my face.

"Does Not Compute."

"Oh, the robot movie? Isn't it still in theaters?" It was.

"No," she said, trailing off.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to take you in for questioning." I'd asked for the cop's handcuffs earlier, and he was waiting outside. He said he'd drive us to the police station, because SkyCorp was permitted to do interrogations there.

"What do you know?" the woman snarled. "This runs deeper than you could ever understand."

"I have a pretty good idea," I said. "Hopefully you will cooperate and fill in the blanks."

We arrived at the police station, and brought the woman to an interrogation room.

"The faster you cooperate, the faster this will be over."

"I'm going to prison either way," she mumbled. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Fi.

The first victim is a sixteen-year-old girl. She is the adopted daughter of the family that lives at 547 Faron Street. The boy is 17 and registered as their neighbor's nephew. I put my phone back in my pocket.

"If you understand, please don't be difficult."

She grunted.

"Were you having an affair with your neighbor?"

"Yes."

"How long has it lasted?"

"Sixteen years."

"What kinds of cigarettes do you smoke?"

"Newports."

"How long have you been smoking?"

"Twenty years."

"What kind of cigarettes does your neighbor smoke?"

"Marlboros."

"Why did you let them raise your daughter?"

"I'm selfish."

"Did you have any other kids?"

"Yes, but with another man."

"Did you kill your daughter?"

"Yes."

"Did you kill your nephew?"

"No."

"Was he related to you?" She flinched.

"...no."

"Was he your son?"

"Yes."

"Were they dating?"

"Yes."

"Was the girl's father your accomplice?"

"Why?"

"Here's my theory: you fell in love with him, but he wanted to stay married. You were pregnant, though, and unable to raise the kid on your own. You convinced him to adopt your baby. However, two years before, you'd fallen in love and gotten pregnant and you were left alone, so you had your sister adopt your child. After your daughter was born, you realized that the half-siblings went to the same school and eventually started dating, and that disgusted you. Your lover agreed. This is where I meet hitch." Her eyes were dead, and I knew I was spot on. I continued.

"Was your plan to have the father drive all the way to the vacation home but realize he forgot something, then drive back with home your daughter? And you'd have your nephew over for a visit, so you could take him next door and slaughter him?"

"Why do you think he was an accomplice?"

"Because of the cigarettes in the alleyway." There were a lot of cigarettes in the back. They looked pretty new, and it hadn't rained recently. Some looked different from others, so I assumed that the ones with blue camels on them were Camel brand cigarettes while the others were Marlboros.

"Guess there's no saving him," she sighed.

After she confessed to everything, a police squadron sped to the family's vacation home and brought back a very confused man. He'd probably believed that his lover would sacrifice everything and he would get off scot-free.

He was angry, demanding a lawyer, trashing about so much that the metal table flipped on it's side. I crossed my legs and sat back in my chair.

"Sir," I said without agitation, "what kind of cigarettes do you smoke?"

I left the police station at 10:00. It would take me thirty minutes to walk home, but I was much too exhausted to make the journey.

I stood at the bus station for fifteen minutes in the cold, my toes losing heat in the snow. I was alone, so I found it acceptable to bounce on the balls of my feet to warm up. I began to think about the people from earlier in the day, and realized that I spoke the most to people that I thought to be guilty.

At ten thirty, the bus arrived, and I thought, I should have walked.

There were a few people on the bus, either with headphones in or asleep. I knew it was best to stay awake in public, but I found myself closing my eyes, then dreaming.

My stop was the last, so I was able to sleep for about fifteen minutes. My eyes opened just as we stopped. I was the last person on the bus and dragged my feet in exhaustion but finally made it to my apartment, unlocking the door.

It was freezing inside, and I flipped the switch on the floor heater. I began to undress, untucking my shirt and unbuckling my belt. I threw my shirt into my clothes bin and began to unzip my fly when something shifted behind me. I froze, and slowly turned around.

"You must be tired, to be unable to notice me for ten minutes. Or perhaps you wanted me to see this?" He was sitting with his back to the window, a smirk on his face.

"No, I really am tired," I said flatly. "And I don't have time for you."

"Hm," he said. "I should tell you that I am much busier than you are, yet I have taken the time to come here." He stood and walked towards me, looking me over as he circled.

"Don't you have better things to do, then?" He shoved me, and I stumbled backwards but he grabbed my wrist before I could fall, and spun me around so that my back was to him.

"Do I have better things to do?" He sounded calm as he twisted my arm behind my back and pulled my other wrist over my head. I bit the inside of my cheek, gauging whether or not to fight back. If I resisted, he could easily break my arm.

"Of course I have better things to do. That fact is, of course, why it is so important that I am here." He twisted my arm more. "You are a waste of time," he said, "yet I find myself wasting my valuable time on you regardless. You see, even the hardest worker must transgress on occasion." He licked me from my shoulder to my neck, and placed his lips behind my ear.

"It is so very dull when you do not fight back," he pouted, and released me.

"I have to wonder why you touch me so much."

"I want to watch you struggle under my grasp, all composure lost. I want to hear your ragged breaths, make you scream until your ears bleed—"

"That would wake the neighbors." While he was speaking, he seemed to fall into a trance. I hoped that saying something oblivious would break the spell so that he would leave.

He blinked. He blinked again.

"Yes, I suppose it would." He smirked. "Do tell me about your masturbation materials next time, detective." Walking out, he ran one finger from my collarbone, up my neck, to my chin, over my lips. The door clicked shut behind him.

Gear's change in attitude was strange and uncomfortable to ponder. In the shower, I thought briefly of his cool, dry hands.

The thought disgusted me.

I started my second case the next day. A young girl had been missing for a month, and the police couldn't find her anywhere. Her name was Kukiel, and she was the daughter of Jakamar, a well-know handyman in Skyloft. I spoke to her mother, Wryna, before going to search for her.

"She's been kidnapped," she said, crying as soon as I asked. "I know it. She used to disappear for a few days but she's been missing for so long. Someone told me that they saw her with a monster!" Wryna was almost in hysterics, so I assured her that I would find her, even though I couldn't be sure. She cried harder, and thanked me countless times.

I was at a loss. I had no leads, and was going to call Fi when she called me instead.

"Hello, Fi—"

"Link? This is Orielle. I heard from Fi that you were looking for a little girl named Kukiel?" Orielle was said to work with the espionage center, but I usually saw her everywhere but their office at headquarters. I didn't speak to her much, but if she had a lead it would be helpful.

"Yes, do you know something?"

"Yeah, I babysat her a few times. She's a cute kid. Anyway, she used to want to play at the graveyard. She told me to stay there and she would disappear for an hour or two and then come back, totally fine."

"Which graveyard?" I asked, already moving.

"The one in Central. But there's this grumpy old guy that told me he saw her with a mutated man. Of course, he's near senile so we don't know if he's telling the truth or not. He's probably at Pumm's."

"Thank you," I said graciously.

"Make sure you find her, okay? Her parents really love her."

"Of course." She handed the phone back to Fi.

"Link?" Fi said. "I've already written up and filed your other case, so don't worry about it."

"Thanks, that helps a lot," I smiled. "I really appreciate it."

"Be careful," she told me, and hung up.

It was especially cold on that day, and it was supposed to start snowing heavily around 6:00. I hoped to find Kukiel before then, and bring her home safely to her parents. I walked to Pumm's, and inside, I saw Keet sitting at a round table with an old man.

"Morning, detective," Keet said. "What brings you here?" I wondered if he was punished for my failing the drug bust because he was my supervisor for the case. "I've got a day off." I guess not.

"I'm on a new case, I'm here to talk to someone."

"Hmm, have fun," he said, preoccupied, as he stared at the waitress whose name tag said Kina. Keet, lovelorn? What a strange world we live in.

"Come 'ere, youngin," said the old man from across the table. I greeted him.

"Good morning, sir."

"Mornin'. Ya don't look stupid, but ya look like ya'll listen t'me. D'ya believe in the monster of Skyloft? No! The demon! We can't say fer sure if it's real, no one has seen it and lived to tell the tale." But didn't you see it? "I've got me the quickest re-flex-es in Skyloft, see? So when I saw the 'bomination—looked him right in his beady eyes—I turned right on my heel and ran! Ya see, son, sometimes ya need to make a strategic retreat." He paused and took a sip of his steaming drink.

"There's a massive tree in the cemetery, see? I walked by it in the dead of night and saw the creature hit the gravestone closest to the tree or use some evil magic spell, and the door to the shed opened. He went in, and closed the doors behind him, too... which was strange, but he's still a demon!"

"Thank you, sir." I left the restaurant.

I was at a loss because I had to be there at night, and the snowstorm would be well underway. I'd have to wait all day. I walked to the graveyard to see if I could gain entry then, but the door wouldn't open no matter what I did. At even more of a loss, I walked to the park and brushed the snow off of a bench. I was restless, and sitting didn't help though I'd hoped to calm myself down.

"Are you cold or just nervous?" Horwell asked, sitting next to me.

"A bit of both. Where's Mia?"

"It's too cold outside for her. What are you nervous about?"

"I'm on a missing persons case, but I can't gain entry into the place where I think she's being kept until the nighttime." Horwell looked at me, and poked the skin right under my eye.

"C-cold!" I said, because he wasn't wearing gloves and his hands were freezing. "Don't you have gloves?"

"Hand warmers," he explained, pulling a white packet out of his coat pocket. "But I poked you because you look spent. Has everything been okay?"

"Well, no, but I think I'll be fine, so you don't have to worry."

"Tell me," he said, pulling on my cheek.

"Fine, fine. I failed my opium case, and so I'll be doing minor cases for awhile as punishment. I could have been demoted, so I suppose this is better." I sighed. "I just haven't been sleeping well." Or at all. Same thing.

Horwell clicked his tongue. "Have you thought of starting a new case while you wait?"

"I did, but I'd get too caught up in it."

"Then why don't you go to sleep? I'll make sure no one messes with you."

"I can't—"

"Oh, just shut up and go to sleep." He put his hands in his pockets and leaned back, and I drifted off, head nodding.

"Link," Horwell whispered, "I'm going to go smoke. I'll be back in less than ten minutes, but then you should go, because it's going to snow soon." Is it already 7:00?

"I'm so tired of cigarettes," I said, still not completely awake. I heard his footsteps disappear into the distance and, suddenly, a wave of cold flew over my skin, my hair stood on end; I was alert. My eyes darted all around until I noticed a man standing in the middle of the pathway maybe six or seven meters away. He was wearing all black, and a white mask with a simple, frowning face on it. He bowed grandly and turned, walking away.

Who was that?

When Horwell returned, I thanked him for watching over me all day and told him that I had to hurry, I would pay him back later.

The sun was setting slowly, but the overcast sky made everything seem darker in the first place. It was windy, and, though I wrapped my scarf around my neck and face, the parts that weren't covered were stiff. I made my way to the graveyard as quickly as possible. Was it cold in the shed? Did Kukiel have a coat? Was she being fed? The worries of her mother were transferred to me.

When I arrived at the graveyard, it was about 6:45 and the snow was not yet heavy. The streetlights finally came on, and I could see much better in the dark. The branches of the massive oak tree were weighed down in white, and a clump of snow slid off of a branch onto the gravestone closest to it, as if it were a sign. I walked to the stone. Its face was weathered away with age.

The old man at Pumm's told me that he saw the 'monster' hit the gravestone, which caused the door to open. I tapped it lightly with my finger, and nothing happened. I guessed that the next thing to do would probably be hit it with all I had, so I wound back my fist and punched the gravestone with everything I had. I was almost vibrating after the impact.

"Enter passcode," a mechanic voice said. The face of the gravestone was glowing like an electronic device. I crouched down and put my arms over it so I could see it better. Leaning forward, the gravestone slid back and I fell forward.

"Passcode bypassed," chirped the voice. With that, the door to the shed slid open. I was going to run in, gun poised, but I would've fallen through a hole in the ground. There was a long ladder leaning against the edge of the hole, so I climbed down cautiously.

I came upon a platform with wooden planks haphazardly circling to some unseen place. The ground was nowhere to be seen, so I continued to walk forward slowly until I saw an old but well-built house. As I came closer, I heard a blood-curdling scream.

I burst through the door. At the back wall of the room was—

"Link?"

"Batreaux?" My gun was pointed at him, but my resolution wavered. Batreaux, the bodyguard of HONEY DROP, stood tall.

"P-p-put that gun away, I'll have a heart attack," he said, stuttering.

"What was that scream?"

"Oh, we were just playing the scream-as-loud-as-you-can game! You look like you don't believe me. I'll explain. I know I look hideous, but I don't have any ill intent. However, most people run away at the sight of me. This adorable child is one of the few people that accept me. Ever since she started visiting me, I got that job at HONEY DROP, fixed up my house, and I'm just happier." Kukiel came out from behind his leg.

"He's not bad, I swear! He lets me scream as loud as I want here."

"Why don't you ever go home, Kukiel?" I crouched down to get on eye level with her.

"Because mama doesn't understand that Batreaux is nice, and daddy comes home so late! They fight sometimes, and I don't like it."

"You have to go home to make sure your parents are okay," I said. "You're a very strong girl, and smart, too. So you'll have to explain to your parents everything, because they've been very worried about you. Maybe... you can still see Batreaux, but you have to go home every night because mama and daddy miss you." She puffed out her cheeks, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot as if impatiently waiting for a thought to come to her.

"Fine, but if they don't understand I'll really just live here!"

"Well, that's up to your parents." She put her arms up like she wanted to be picked up, and I put my hat over her and wrapped my scarf around her neck. She fell asleep in my arms just as quickly.

I turned to Batreaux.

"If someone else came looking, you'd probably be arrested. Be more considerate of her age and your responsibilities as an adult." He flinched as if he was scared of me. "But thank you for taking care of her."

"I only want what's best for her." I nodded in agreement, but a question was pulling at my focus.

"How are the guys at HONEY DROP?" I asked with caution.

"Well, we were devastated when we found out that you were a detective, because we all liked you and were hoping you'd stay for a long time."

I can see it now. Tott, sitting at his desk, taking a handful of ibuprofen to alleviate one of his weekly migraines. Dovos is sitting quietly, eating pumpkin bread. Peater is frowning. Tott gives them the news while looking out the window with a distant look on his face. Dovos stops eating mid-chew and Peater's shoulder slump. He storms out of the room muttering and Dovos folds his hands in his lap and stares at his knees. Tott sighs and massages his temples.

"But," he continued, "there was something else. Mr. Kiffen sold the club to someone else. He seems nice, but it was pretty sudden."

"Did he say why he sold it?"

"Something about not wanting to own failed experiments."

After that, we said our goodbyes and I ran, with a sleeping Kukiel in my arms, to her parents' house. I knocked on the door loudly.

"Detective, thank you!" Wryna and Jakamar came to the door, and embraced their sleeping daughter. They handed me the hat and scarf I'd put on their daughter and hugged me, too.

"We owe you our lives," they said Wryna was in tears.

"Of course not," I said. "I'm only doing my job."

"Such a noble man," Jakamar said. I managed to escape their endless string of compliments and walked home. At the front door of the building, I was about to enter the passcode when the same feeling of cold that I'd had earlier in the evening came over me again. I looked to my left and, three streetlights away, there was another man, clad in black, with a white mask. His mask had only a smile and a red teardrop on its face.

I watched him and he watched me, neither of us moving. He bowed grandly and turned around, walking away. I hurriedly entered my apartment, relieved that Gear was not there, and took a shower.

I couldn't sleep, so I watched the snow blow around manically.

When it snows, I thought, it's almost like the stars get lost in the wind.

A/N: I think that if I ever write a GhiraLink fanfic again (which will be soon after this one finishes because I am probably a masochist), the only characters will be Link and Ghirahim. Really. There are too many characters. I think this chapter had the most new characters (albeit unimportant ones) in it (I like parentheses).

SPOLIER FOR NEXT CHAPTER! Honestly, it isn't a big deal, but Link learns Gear's real name, and more about the very mysterious, very elusive vulgar demon of wrath and bane of Link's existence!

There is also sexual content. Huzzah! Long live the king (I know I haven't been really giving good warnings about it, but it doesn't seem like anyone cares anyway)!

Last thing: I'll be asking for the identity of Gilmore Kiffen in the next chapter, because I will be giving a horrendous amount of hints.

The last last thing: Feel free to like/favorite/follow/whatever it's called. Tell all of your GhiraLink shipping family that "Hey, there's this sort-of-kinda-but-not-really okay fanfic that I read that is occasionally interesting."