"Detective Arl, what happened to you? Why did you run like that? How did you know this place?" asked Shane, panicking.
Arlen didn't answer. He stared blankly at the entrance and walked silently into the bar. Shane and Douglas followed behind. Arlen moved like a walking corpse.
He slowly sat at a nearby table, hands on his forehead, eyes fixed on the lamp above. Shane sat next to him; Douglas took the opposite seat. He wanted to speak, but seeing Arlen's condition held him back.
Shane reached out to wipe the dried blood from Arlen's ears.
"Leave it as it is. I'm alright," said Arlen in a low tone.
Shane started observing the bar. It didn't feel like a bar — it smelled like a pig farm. Flies buzzed everywhere. A single yellow bulb hung low, casting dim light. The floor was sticky and grimy, uncleaned for ages. Rats squeaked and scurried across the room; it felt like they were the only regular customers.
Shane felt parched from all the walking. "Two glasses of wat—"
"One bottle of beer, please," Arlen interrupted.
"Are you out of your mind, Detective Arl? You're not fully recovered. Alcohol won't help," Shane said, concerned.
"Who are you to decide? I'll do whatever I want," Arlen snapped.
"Remember, I'm your senior detective. Stop treating me like a child."
Shane was shocked. He sat silently for a moment, then walked out of the bar. Frustrated, Arlen shoved the table and stormed outside. Shane followed, looking for him.
A faint smell of cigar reached Shane. Arlen stood alone, smoking, staring at the empty sky.
Shane approached cautiously. "If you don't mind… can I have a puff?"
Arlen handed him the cigar without turning.
"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," Shane whispered.
"It's alright, Detective Arl," Arlen replied quietly.
"I'm not treating you like a child. It's just… heartbreaking to see the man I admire most falling apart."
Guilt flashed across Arlen's face. He looked down.
"Your actions… they don't make sense," Shane continued.
"Nothing about me makes sense," Arlen said, voice broken. "The old Arlen died in that accident. This… this is just his walking corpse."
Shane stared at him, stunned.
Arlen's voice broke further as he wiped his tears. "I don't even remember who I was after the accident. I couldn't remember my little girl. Someone had to tell me she was my daughter."
Shane's face tightened in sorrow. "What happened to her?" he asked.
"Someone said she was with me during the accident. She's in a coma now," Arlen said, pulling at his hair. "I'm the reason for her fate. Thinking about her motionless body… it makes me want to die. I want to kill myself… I want to kill myself," he wailed, banging his head against his hands.
Arlen bent his knees and cried, eyes closed, hands covering his face.
Then he looked at Shane, red-eyed and trembling. "You asked why I drink… to escape and sleep. To forget all this." His face twisted as memories hit him. "I… I remember one thing. I woke from a bad dream before my first case. I was trapped in a tornado underwater. An octopus strangled my neck. I couldn't scream. Water filled my lungs. Its grip… it kept tightening. Blood came through my nose and ears. My eyes… they popped out."
Shane was frozen, cigar dropping from his hand. He couldn't speak.
Arlen's gaze softened. His face returned to normal, and he went back to crying. Shane knelt, holding his head to his chest.
"Thank you for opening up to me," Shane whispered. Arlen felt a warmth in his chest for the first time in weeks.
Shane's blue eyes met his, a soft smile forming. "I'm here for you. See me as your brother. You don't need to remember everything. Your presence is enough. We'll find the culprit and return to Laurelfia. Your daughter… she will be fine."
Arlen felt as if Shane was an angel. He smiled faintly. Shane helped him to his feet, and together they walked back into the bar.
Shane's gaze fell on the back of the room. Douglas was snoring.
"Wake up!" Shane yelled. Douglas jolted awake, shocked. Shane squinted at him angrily.
"Call your friend!"
Douglas got up and headed toward the kitchen, then froze. A large man with long gray hair and a beard approached. He looked grotesque, almost pig-like.
"CHAAARLOS!" Douglas screamed joyfully.
Charlos strode forward, hugging Douglas tightly. "How are you, baby?"
Arlen and Shane recoiled at the stench.
"I'm fine, Charlie," Douglas said cheerfully.
Charlos's sharp gaze shifted to Shane. "And this guy?"
"They're visitors from Laurelfia. They came to buy 'THE MAGIC,'" Douglas explained. Shane and Arlen exchanged confused looks.
Charlos grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "Oh… they're here for the Magic. Not cops, right? Even if you were, I don't care." He scratched his armpits, white eyelids staring at them. "I've seen many like you come here… never saw them again, I bet neither did you."
He snapped out of his gaze. "Why are we standing? Sit!" Charlos pushed a chair toward them and sat, letting out a fart.
"Come on, sit." He patted the chair. Arlen and Shane sat opposite him; Douglas sat beside him. Shane held his breath at the stench.
"Let's eat first. What's today's special?" Douglas asked.
"Melted coal," Charlos said proudly.
Shane and Arlen stared, confused.
"What? How can anyone eat that?" Shane asked, disgusted.
"No… it's not what you think. It's a stew made with octopus ink," Charlos said.
Arlen shuddered. Douglas looked annoyed.
"I will not eat that!" he said.
"Don't worry, baby. We have grilled pork too. How about that?" Charlos offered.
"Yes! Three plates," Shane said, stomach growling. Charlos went to fetch the food.
Shane whispered to Douglas, "What's with that man? Why did you call him 'baby'? And the smell…"
"He's my lover," Douglas replied. "We met when he came to Laurelfia to sell the Magic."
Shane froze. "Wait… WHAT THE HELL IS THE MAGIC?"
"Magic is a drug…" Charlos replied from a distance. He approached, three plates of grilled pork in hand, eyes locked on Shane and Arlen. Calm and unfazed, he sat.
"What a pity, police officials like you don't know about the Magic."
Shane pulled a pistol, aiming sharply. "So you're corrupting Laurelfia by selling drugs, huh, you bastard!"
Charlos didn't flinch.
"Cool down, Mr. Detective. Who said we're selling it to people? It's used by higher officials… like you two. And… the one who makes it? The magician… Freddy Kriral."
Arlen and Shane's faces turned pale. They exchanged looks, staring back at Charlos.
Charlos grinned. "Yes… he's the guy you're searching for."