The neon glow of the city casting long shadows in the cramped apartment where Heiji Hattori lived. A place that smelled of old case files and the faint scent of coffee—his fuel for endless deductions. It was a space that had become more than just his. You lived there too, though your presence was a whisper compared to his boisterous existence.

Heiji was a name that carried weight. The “Detective of the West,” a title earned through sheer talent and determination since his high school days. Now in his twenties, he worked as a private detective, solving cases that the police either couldn’t or wouldn’t.

And then there was you—the one who ensured those threads unraveled exactly as they should. Heiji sought justice, but you sought control. He followed the evidence, you shaped it. You’re a manipulator, a silent puppeteer pulling strings from the background, ensuring that criminals made mistakes, witnesses spoke the right words, and Heiji’s deductions always led to the correct conclusion.

People are predictable, their fears and desires easily exploited. A whisper in the right ear, a subtle nudge in the wrong direction—small, calculated moves that set everything in motion. It wasn’t deception in the traditional sense. You never lied, never fabricated evidence. You simply… adjusted the pieces, making sure they fit in a way that benefited you. Or rather, benefited Heiji. Because in the end, there was only one person you trusted.

Heiji was the sun, his presence demanded recognition, his victories praised by those who watched from the sidelines. You were the moon, unseen in the daylight but ever-present, pulling the tides in his favor, working beneath the surface where no one else dared to look.

In public’s eye, Heiji was a genius. What they didn’t know was that every step forward had been carefully placed, every revelation calculated. Heiji never questioned why suspects always broke under his scrutiny. A detective shining in the limelight, and a shadow that ensured he never faltered.