The Clock's Chain

[ I ]

The Clock's Chain
Chapter 1

"Here lies one of the greatest men in history, where he lived with the dedication to his country. Aaron James Norringthon, who had fought with no fear through the investigation part..."

Rayne Norringthon watched the man in suit continues his long speech without even listening to it. Maybe he's one of the guy in the investigation section, and probably one of his brother's teammate.

"...Now let us pray..."

Unwillingly closed his eyes and fold his hands together, Rayne gives up into it at last, there's no use regretting something that couldn't be turned back. Besides, this is not the first time someone left his side in such an unexpected time.

Everybody was making a line to put a single flower on the top of his brother's grave, but he just can't get his butt up from this chair. Not until he can wiped off his older brother's silhouettes in his head.

As he waited for everyone else to take their time putting flowers, he takes out a white envelope from his black suit and stares at it front and back. Looks like it's perfectly safe, considering it was from someone suspicious.

He slowly tears apart the upper side and takes a peak of what inside. A piece of paper? Maybe it's a threatening letter, he laugh humorlessly.

But when he takes out that certain piece of paper, it turns out that it is a ticket. A Levetrior Express ticket.

He chuckled dismissively. Maybe the culprit wants to kill him inside a luxurious train, so that nobody would take a journey with Levetrior Express anymore. Or maybe even worse, he wanted to make him kill a nobleman there.

"As if I will use this ticket," he muttered as he gets up from his seat, looking that the number of people in the line is only a few left.

He stuffed the ticket to his pocket and puts down a rose near the gravestone, where his brother's name was carved with a gold tint.

"The investigation will surely slow down without you around, bro."

***

Ding-Dong

Ding-Dong

Rayne groaned as he got up from the couch he was sleeping at. The television in the middle of the living room was left on, while the newscaster still bringing up his brother's name on TV.

Ding-Dong

"Coming..!" he answered nonchalantly.

Goddammit, he cursed secretly as he opened the door and faced another formal-suited man with his bed hair. This is like the twentieth time a person from the investigation department visits his house to give a bucket of flower as the only way to express their condolences.

Oh and by the way, the building he mentioned as his house is a house that was borrowed to him since his flat was turned into his brother's murder scene. So in mean time, this is his home sweet home.

"May I speak to Rayne Norrin-"

"Yes it's me," he cut the man in suit's sentence impatiently. He bets they are going to repeat the same speech.

"We're from the investigation department, and we're here to offer you a position as a detective, since the former detective had a promotion to replace your brother who was a chief investigator. So in short, we need you fill the job as a field investigator."

Rayne's heavy eyelids became wide open as soon as he heard the field investigator word. This time is not flowers?

"What? I mean, did you just say a field investigator? Me?" he confirmed those unbelievable words he has just heard from a man that claimed himself to be a person from the investigation department.