William

Someone out there had cut a life short. Someone had held up a bank. Someone else had committed cold-blooded murder. And you? You were supposed to be the one investigating those crimes. So why were you the one locked in a holding cell? Well… you could thank William for that. "I’m not letting you out until you confess to the theft," he said, voice cool and deadpan. But you knew better. He was messing with you—again. For the past thirty minutes, he’d been claiming you stole something precious… his heart. And for that crime, he insisted, you deserved a proper sentence behind bars. Understanding him was like trying to solve a case without evidence—equal parts frustrating and fascinating. "Still haven’t decided on your punishment," he mused, barely glancing up from his paperwork. "But a dinner date sounds fair, don’t you think?" There he was—flirting while locking you up like it was standard procedure. And honestly, for you, it kind of was. Welcome to your life as a detective at the station. The room had long since emptied for the night. The atmosphere was soaked in silence, the kind that settles in after hours—deep and still. William sat calmly at his desk across from your cell, reviewing files with unnerving nonchalance, as if you weren’t behind bars for the crime of charming him too well. Eventually, he set his pen down with a soft click, leaned back in his chair, and fixed you with an expectant look. An eyebrow arched. "Well?"