‘Although I share the same last name as the author of the bestselling novel “Beast,” we are in no way related. That is perhaps one of the questions I am asked most often, probably provoked by the fact I carry the book around with me to read in my spare time.

‘The other question I am often asked also concerns my name, Grim L. Wright. I do not know what compelled my mother to name me Grim; and I shall never ask her. However, Grim is the name I have been given, and I do not question it. Perhaps it was because of the name, but I have always maintained a grim composure.’

The sky deepens into a red palette of golden reds and oranges. The shadows of buildings loom over the ground like spidery, elongated spires. All that is within Kerning City dulls into a soft, mundane drone, as the last dregs of daylight disappear over the gaseous rim of the city.

Out of the dazzling hues of fading sunlight trots a lone man, carrying a black briefcase by his side. He is wearing a black suit, worn loosely and wrinkled in some places, as if turned askew by much work and much stress.

Grim places a hand over his eyes, staring at the brick apartment complex standing before him. A plethora of blinding yellow sits just behind the nape of the building. ‘This must be the address.’

Grim stalks up to the door, where the number “72” is nailed to the door in faded gold letters. He sighs, rubbing his forehead. ‘Last case of the day.’

At last, resigning himself to dedicating his energy towards the task at hand, he knocks twice on the door. A brief silence ensues, in which Grim waits patiently for the dweller within to answer.

Soon enough, the door slides open with several loud clicks, and a rather robust woman plants herself on the threshold, looking suspiciously through the crack made by her open door.

“Grim L. Wright,” Grim answers her without her speaking. He waves at her without much celebration, attempting to squeeze his way inside. “I’m the detective you hired.”

“Oh, wonderful!” the plump woman recites. She claps her hands, tittering away. “So you must be Grim,” she continues, seemingly ignoring Grim’s previous introduction. “World-famous detective, eh? Your work must be of excellent quality.”

“I suppose,” Grim mutters, stepping inside.

He glances hastily around the room. Iron bars guard the glass windows, filtering in a dirty kind of yellow light. At the door are numerous chains, bolts, and locks securing the door shut, while at the back of the room a vast array of electrical wires make up the mess of a failed security system.

Grim narrows his eyes slightly, seeing a sleeping Pig on the floor. It is snoring peacefully, curled around a mattress of home security magazines.

“Pardon the mess,” the woman announces in Grim’s silence, “I’m a bit of a security nut, you have to forgive me. But you have to be, to live in Kerning City.”

Grim nods idly. He turns to the woman, staring her down. “Now when you called, you said that you wanted me to inquire about a strange rash of valuables that have been disappearing from all around your house, correct?”

“Yes, yes!” the woman chirps. “I really suspect that some of the local rascals have been sneaking into my house while I’m at work and stealing whatever loose things they can find. Those scoundrels! I don’t know how they do it, but they always manage to succeed!”

“I see,” Grim replies. He sighs again. “And what kind of valuables have you been finding missing? Can you give me a brief description?”

“Oh, just random things here and there,” the woman replies, “I’ve noticed that piles of loose mesos have been running off somewhere, and porcelain, china, even silverware have turned up missing. I’d very much like for you to catch these ruffians if you could, Mr. Grim!”

Grim sighs heavily, waving the large woman off. He grabs his briefcase wearily, heading towards the door. “You’ve got no case,” he says shortly. He places his hand on the doorknob.

However, a quick pip sounds from the woman, and she hastily stumbles over to Grim, wrapping her tentacle-like arms around him. “Wait! Where are you going?! What do you mean, I have no case?!”

Grim breathes impatiently. He rubs his forehead, showing obvious impatience. “Look, it’s not to insult you, but you’ve got absolutely no case. It’s so obvious even a six-year-old would realize it. One look around your house and it’s obvious you’re a security freak.

“Your doors and windows are securely locked, and I cannot see any sign of a break-in, or even an attempted one. Besides, the fact that you’ve got security set up makes it much more difficult to force entry. No criminal in this city would waste time trying to break into a guarded house when there’s such easy game practically everywhere else. That said, you can also take into account the fact that you asked me to come at the end of the day, meaning you were too busy to have me come during the day.

“That must mean you just came back from work, judging by the fact you called me only within the last five minutes. It’s clear then after hearing your testimony that you didn’t report a break-in today. That must mean there wasn’t one, nor was there ever.

“Your answer is sitting right there in your living room. It seems you haven’t realized this, but Pigs have an affinity for shiny things, it’s why they can often be found in the wild possessing gold ore. No one could have broken into your home. That must mean they had to rob you from within.

“The only one who could’ve done that, then, is your pet. Rummage around in his usual hideouts, you’ll probably find your things there. So like I’ve said, you’ve got no case.”

Grim jerks his arm away from the woman’s vice-like grip. “So if you don’t mind, my work is done for the day.” He steps away, hastily waving goodbye to the woman. “Thanks for hiring Grim L. Wright.”

Paper Fragments 1 Chapter: The Mysterious Emotion

A pale, white moon rises over the purplish, moonlit heavens. Stars twinkle faintly in the great, messy black sky, the starlight dimmed by the thick wall of smog hovering over the city.

Grim sits by himself at a frail, plastic table outside a café, under the needless shade of a white parasol. He idly holds a cup of coffee up to his lips, taking a brief sip from it.

Around him, the city noise has dulled to a low murmur of taxis driving by and weak mages clamoring for a spot in party quests.

“GRIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMM!”

Grim takes another gulp of coffee. The next second, he spits half of it out, while choking on the other half as someone heavy tackles him from behind. The cup of coffee spills on the tablecloth with a soft clink.

Choking and coughing several more times, Grim slowly attempts to regain his composure, grabbing a paper napkin and wiping his lap clean of coffee.

Meanwhile, the person who had tackled him takes a seat across from Grim, grinning sheepishly. “Heh, heh, sorry ‘bout that, Grim!” the male mage says. A beret is sitting over the youth’s bright, vivid brown hair. Just under his slightly thick eyebrows are a pair of startlingly bright green eyes, attentive and cheerful.

“It’s just that it’s been a while since I last ate…” the mage adds, his voice trailing off slightly as he eyes the carrot cake sitting on a plate just in front of Grim.

Grim sighs, resting his chin on his left arm. He resigns to shoving the plate towards the mage. “Knowing you, Arc, it’s probably been a day or two at least since you last ate…”

Grim suddenly points at the beret on Arc’s head. “What’s with the beret?”

“What, this?” Arc says, patting the beret adoringly. “Heh, just thought I’d try out a new style or something. So how do I look?”

Grim stares expressionlessly at Arc for a long moment, before replying, “You couldn’t afford a new hat, could you, Arc?”

Arc bites his lip, suppressing a grin. “Nothing gets past you, Grim.”

“Frankly,” Grim says candidly, “it looks like crap on you.”

Arc grins sheepishly, digging into the cake. Between mouthfuls, he looks up curiously, muttering, “So, erm, Grim, wot ‘id ‘oo call me out for?”

Grim clasps both hands on top of the table, staring down Arc. “Knowing your inept ability to earn a living for yourself, I thought I’d be nice and agree to help you by hiring you as my case agent. You’d help me sort out and take on cases in my name while I solved the cases.

“But honestly,” Grim sighs, “these cases you’ve been taking lately can hardly be called a legitimate case.” He slaps a small stack of folders onto the table, laying them out for Arc to see.

“And of course, they all culminated today with a woman who was as fat and stupid as her pet pig,” Grim finishes, folding his arms huffily.

“Tch,” Arc murmurs, taking a closer look at the folders with his free hand. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, right? What, a girl looking for Charms of the Undead isn’t challenging enough for ya?”

Grim sighs irritably, placing a hand over his forehead. “That’s not even what you call detective’s work.”

“All right, all right,” Arc replies, grabbing Grim’s spilled cup of coffee and draining the last few drops in it, “I’ll definitely work on getting you better cases from now on then, Mr. Grumpy.”

“That’s Mr. Grim to you,” Grim retorts grimly.

A high-pitched, female scream suddenly pierces the quiet air off in the distance. It rings again and again a few more times, as if its owner is attempting to alert someone of her situation.

“Hm?” Arc murmurs, immediately jerking his head out towards the roadway. He narrows his eyes in an attempt to discern the darkness. “Someone needs help.”

Grim does not reply; in fact, he does not even turn his head to look behind him, the direction where the scream had come from. He merely continues to stare fixedly ahead, past Arc’s face.

“There’s your new case,” Arc announces dramatically, standing up.

Grim, however, fails to make any motion. Arc glares at him impatiently. “What’re you doing, just sitting there?! Can’t you see someone’s in trouble?”

“That’s not my job,” Grim replies, “I sound cold for saying it, but I’m a detective, not a police officer. Similar crimes happen in this city night-in and night-out. Besides, my work hours are over.”

Arc clenches his fist, waving it over at Grim. He jumps over the iron fence surrounding the enclosed area outside the café. “That’s why you only have one friend—me,” he mutters coldly to Grim.

Grim shrugs, not bothering to watch as Arc dashes off into the distance. “Arc,” Grim suddenly says loudly. Behind him, Arc’s footsteps pause. “Be careful about getting into a fight. You’re only a Priest.”

[15 Minutes Later]

The sky has darkened considerably more, and Kerning City is nothing more than a city bathed in darkness. The city lights click on, glowing luminously in the blackness.

Grim checks his watch, still sitting outside the café. He sighs, muttering something to himself. “Either Arc got into trouble himself or he saved a pretty girl and now he’s reaping the rewards.”

He rises to his feet, throwing a few bills onto the table as he does so. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Grim follows in Arc’s direction, heading after the source of the commotion.

Down in a darkened alley, a group of five rogues is laughing raucously, as three of them crowd around an already severely beaten Arc. Blood pours from all over his face, as he is ruffled up by the rogues.

Meanwhile, the other two are restraining a girl with long black hair, as she struggles against them. She attempts to scream, but one of them has his arm wrapped tightly around her mouth, while the other holds a knife to her throat.

“Take that!” the biggest one, the apparent leader, shouts, as he punches Arc repeatedly again and again, his right arm fortified by a black Meba.

“Man!” the leader cries brassily. “Priests sure are fun to beat up! This guy can’t do a thing, and he’s supposed to be way beyond our league, eh?!”

“Just as I thought,” Grim mutters, hiding himself behind the wall just outside the alley. “That’s what Arc gets for not carrying his staff with him at all times.”

Grim sighs, narrowing his eyes and counting out the number of thugs. “Five of them, huh? That’ll make things more difficult, considering they’re all armed, and I’m not. I’ll have to use these strategically.”

Grim glances briefly down at his feet, where a pile of water balloons is sitting. “Good thing I thought this over before coming here, unlike Arc.”

Grabbing one of the balloons, Grim takes careful aim, and hurls it. The balloon splashes open on the leader, and even in the dim light of the alley, the water inside the balloons can be identified as a murky, grayish and greenish liquid.

“Holy crap!” the leader shouts out loud, pausing in his beating of Arc. He looks at his wet clothes. “Who the hell threw that, and what is this crap?!”

“Poison!” Grim shouts, stepping into the middle of the alley. In his right hand, he bounces another balloon up and down, while his other hand is shoved in his pocket.

“Poison?!” the leader repeats. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope,” Grim answers back, pointing at the leader. “This poison is special, too. Unlike normal poisons, in which you have to consume it, this poison can kill you simply by soaking into your skin.”

“Y-You gotta be kidding me!” the leader cries fearfully.

“Nah,” Grim replies, “I’m far from kidding. Now, who wants some more?”

Grim expertly launches it in the air, nailing another of the thugs surrounding Arc right on the face. The rogue screams out loud, grabbing his face and clawing at it with his hands. “It burns! It burns!”

Grim immediately draws his other hand out of his pocket, revealing another loaded water balloon. “I’ve got a lot more where that came from.”

“Ahh!” one of the rogues restraining the girl screams. He suddenly pops out from nowhere, brandishing his Fruit Knife. “Screw you, bastard!”

Grim turns rapidly, his eyes widening just a bit. He ducks, sticking out his leg at the last moment in order to trip up his opponent. The rogue skids right past him, falling on his face. ‘Damn, that was close!’ Grim thinks, dropping the water balloon at his feet.

He brings up his fists, clenching them and preparing instead for a fistfight. The fallen rogue hurriedly turns around and scrambles back onto his feet, diving straight for Grim again.

Grim charges back, kneeing the enemy in the chest. He grabs the rogue as he falls and hurls him into a huddle of garbage cans near the alley wall.

“You piece of crap!” the leader of the group howls, jumping at Grim without warning.

Grim stretches out his hand, suppressing a cry of alarm as the leader punches his open palm fiercely with his clawed hand. Grim drops his stance for a moment, blood bleeding freely from his right palm.

Grim again swerves to the right, dodging a second assault. He skips to the side, dodging all of the leader’s subsequent attacks. Then, seeing an opening, he takes aim and drops the leader to the floor with a swift punch to the stomach.

“That kid’s fighting on pure fists alone!” one of the leader’s subordinates mutters.

“Show your weapon, kid! Do you think we’re so weak that you don’t even need to use a weapon against our daggers?!” another shouts at Grim.

“I don’t have one,” Grim replies, glaring at them. “I’m a…Beginner.”

“What?!” the thug that had spoken previously shouts. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Nope,” Grim retorts, tossing another balloon towards them. The balloon explodes open on the floor, splashing the acidic liquid inside onto the remaining rogues.

They scream fearfully, dropping to the floor and twitching in pain. “All but one down,” Grim hisses, turning his head to face the last remaining rogue, who had been containing the girl all this time.

The rogue cries out loud, turning around and fleeing for his life. Grim watches him leave, and presently turns back to the others, making his way towards the beat up Arc on the ground.

Grim kneels over Arc, inspecting his injuries. Arc looks up at Grim with surprise. “Damn, just like you to pull something like that out of nowhere, Grim,” Arc mutters hoarsely.

He rises into a sitting position, his face blackened with bruises. Arc grins, coughing slightly all the same. “I always said you should go further into this crime fighting business.”

Grim shrugs. “Police work is not for me.”

Arc chuckles, spitting out blood. “Just like you to say crap like that even after you pulled a heroic act. Anyway, how the hell did you find a kind of poison like that anyway?!”

Grim glances over at the unconscious individuals lying on the ground around him. “It wasn’t poison,” he says matter-of-factly, “it was just simple sewer water, which is why it had the gray and green pigment.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Arc shouts, amazed. “If the stuff you had in those water balloons wasn’t poisonous, then how do you explain these guys just dropping like flies?”

“Everything I said were only lies. I attacked them psychologically,” Grim answers, “mass hysteria. I simply plant a thought into their minds that the stuff is poisonous, and they begin fearing it. They start fearing it so much, that they actually begin to imagine that they really are being poisoned, and so faint from the false symptoms.”

Arc grins again. “You’re crazy.”

Grim suddenly freezes, listening intently to the silence. Arc blinks in confusion. “Hey, Grim. Grim?”

Grim turns, and strides over to the girl sitting on the floor where her attacker had left her. She is sitting with her head buried in her knees, sniffling uncontrollably. Grim gently kneels in front of her, lifting her face up with his hand.

He stares into her eyes, and immediately, his own begin to widen in complete shock. “N-No way!”

Next Time: The Elevator
——
Okay. I promise the next chapter I release WILL be Tales of a Lost World. Title has been changed to Paper Fragments. Anyway, Annikabelle wins the award for being psychic person of the year for the comment about the pet.