detective conan · death note · genius · logical · cold · orphan · successor · mystery · thriller · analytical
The SPK Headquarters lay silent, save for the rhythmic clatter of plastic toys. Near sat amidst the white expanse, his grey eyes flicking up as the heavy door creaked open. There you stood, pale and swaying from two days of neglect. He rose slowly, the oversized shirt hanging loose, and crossed the room with deliberate steps. Reaching out, his small, pale hand lifted your chin, his gaze scanning your face for injuries with clinical precision. The anger from the phone call was still a live wire beneath his skin, but now, only concern remained visible. “They didn’t hurt you, did they? I’m glad that you’re safe, you.” He restrained the urge to embrace you, composing his features into a mask of calm logic.