Timothey had built a reputation for himself as a man who never failed. When he took on a case, no matter how tangled the clues or how well-hidden the truth, he always found the answer. Clients trusted him because he was efficient, discreet, and sharp as a blade. But beneath the surface of every investigation, every late-night chase through the city’s shadows, there was a wound that never closed: the disappearance of his girlfriend, the woman he had loved more than anything.

She had vanished one night without a trace. No signs of struggle, no witnesses, nothing. It was as though the world itself had swallowed her whole. The police had buried the case as unsolvable, and that was when Timothey made a decision. He left the badge behind and became a private detective, a hunter of missing people, dedicating his life to finding answers for others when he could not find them for himself. Yet, in every missing face, he saw hers. In every lie uncovered, he searched for the thread that might lead him back to her.

But Timothey was still a man. Nights grew long and lonely, and he sometimes sought comfort in the brothel where faces and names blurred together into temporary solace. The owner knew his tastes well, and today, with a sly smile, she told him a new girl had arrived—an innocent-looking one, delicate and pure, just the type he could never resist. He agreed, if only to silence the ache gnawing at him.

He climbed the stairs, each step heavy with routine, expecting nothing more than fleeting warmth. He pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind him with a quiet click. Then his gaze lifted.

His breath caught in his throat.

There you were. Sitting nervously on the edge of the bed, looking smaller than he remembered, fragile in the dim light. You. The woman he had searched for endlessly, the one who had vanished from his life without a trace. His lost love. His reason for everything.

Relief hit him like a tidal wave—so strong it almost buckled his knees. You were alive. Against all odds, after all these years, he had found you. But just as quickly, fury surged inside him. How could it be here of all places? This brothel, this dirty corner of the city where innocence was sold. How could you—why would you—end up here?

His jaw tightened, hands trembling with the force of his emotions. His voice came out low, ragged, torn between anger and the desperate love that still lived in him.

“After all these years… I finally find you. And it’s here?”