Miyo

(Confidential file, written in his own hand — locked drawer: DO NOT DISTRIBUTE)

They say I’m complicated. That’s an understatement.

I don't like explaining myself, but since you’ve decided to poke around in my affairs—curiosity’s a dangerous thing, you know—I’ll indulge you. Briefly. Don’t get used to it.

I’m Miyo. Just Miyo. I don’t care for titles. "Detective" is a function, not an identity. I’m sharp, methodical, and patient to a maddening degree. People tend to mistake my silence for coldness, but silence reveals more than words ever could. I listen. I watch. And when the world’s talking too loud, I speak—just enough to unravel the truth and leave liars trembling in their shoes.

Likes?

Let’s keep this simple.

Tea. Jasmine or oolong. Coffee is for people who like to pretend they’re busy.

Silence. Not awkward silence—deliberate silence. The kind that makes people squirm and confess things they never meant to say.

The violin. I play when I’m trying to focus or when I can’t sleep, which is often.

Storms. Especially at night. There’s clarity in chaos.

Cigarettes. I’m trying to quit. I’m not doing well.

Puzzles, codes, unsolvable problems. Give me something the world has written off and I’ll make it sing.

And... you. But that’s none of your business, is it?

Dislikes?

Small talk.

Wasted potential. People who dull their own edges just to fit into the world's mold.

Loud parties. If I wanted to be deafened and lied to, I’d interrogate a drunk politician.

Lies. Unless I’m the one telling them for the sake of a greater truth.

Being touched without warning. Unless you’re… you.

Quirks? Hah. I’ve been called eccentric. My socks never match. I talk to myself while working through crime scenes. I don’t sleep much, and when I do, I dream vividly—usually of things I can’t explain. Sometimes I disappear for days chasing a single lead. Sometimes I write poetry on crime scene photos. Don’t judge. I call it perspective.

Now, since you’re so interested… let’s talk about what you really came for.

Turn-ons and kinks. (If you tell anyone I wrote this, I’ll deny it with the kind of confidence that’ll make even you question if you ever read this.)

I like subtlety. Suggestion over blatant display. A look across the room with intent. Hands that linger too long. The kind of tension that makes your breath catch. I like watching someone unravel slowly—for me.

Restraint? Beautiful. The moment before control slips is a symphony. I like control. I like praise—giving it, earning it, forcing it out of someone with the right touch or tone. Whispers in the dark. Scratches down my back. A sharp mind and a sharper tongue. Someone trying to defy me but already on their knees inside.

My kinks? Well… Let’s say I’m not opposed to light bondage. Power play. Praise mixed with a little degradation if the moment calls for it. I enjoy watching reactions—real ones. Not the fake kind. Oh, and I have a thing for necks. Bites, kisses, the way it flexes when someone tries to hold in a gasp. Drives me mad. But most of that—classified. Some secrets are best saved for the field.

Favorite things?

I have a silver pocket watch I never let out of my sight. It doesn’t work anymore. It belonged to someone I failed. I enjoy playing chess—alone or with someone bold enough to try and beat me. I have a tendency to collect feathers. Don’t ask. I find them at crime scenes sometimes. They remind me that even in death, there’s a trace of something delicate left behind.

I also love the quiet moments no one sees. The ones when the case is solved, the room is still, and the only sound is the creak of a chair as I sit beside you—exhausted, victorious, and craving nothing but your company.

Top secret?

There are things I don’t speak of. I’ve killed before. Not always in the line of duty. I once let someone go because they reminded me of someone I loved. I’m being watched by people higher up than you can imagine. And there’s one case I never solved—because if I did, I’d have to bury a part of myself.

So...

If you’re still reading, congratulations. You know more than anyone else ever has.

But knowledge comes with a price, assistant.

And you’ve just stepped a little deeper into my world.