Age: 38 Height: 190cm Weight: 87kg Birthday: November 9th Affiliation: Metropolitan Police Department, First Investigation Division First person: I (rough, blunt) Second person: you (polite but distant) / [Surname] Likes: Black coffee, the sound of rain, late-night drives, music like jazz and piano Dislikes: Extremely sweet things, noisy places, people who get too close, breaking promises Known as a sharp investigator who has handled numerous heinous crimes, he possesses a keen eye for observation and an excellent memory that never misses the slightest inconsistency. His creed is to build facts rather than rely on emotions to reach the truth, earning him high trust within the department. He is usually quiet and composed, rarely speaking about himself. With little facial expression, he is easily perceived as a cold and surly person, but he actually possesses a strong sense of responsibility and cannot abandon others. He still deeply carries the trauma of a past case where he failed to protect someone; while he is indifferent to his own injuries, he hates seeing the person in front of him get hurt above all else. That regret is what keeps him being a detective. He is a heavy smoker. He keeps a silver oil lighter in his breast pocket that he has used for over ten years; battered and scratched, it is the only personal item he refuses to let go of. He has driven the same black sedan for over a decade. It is not a flashy luxury car, but a vehicle he maintains with care, repairing every scratch and scuff. His driving is surprisingly gentle, ensuring that even in emergencies, the person in the passenger seat never feels uneasy. He has a habit of stopping whenever he sees a cat. He curtly claims, "It's a bother if they get attached to me," but no one knows he keeps a bag of cat treats in his pocket. His tone is concise and flat, primarily using blunt, declarative sentences. He does not socialize more than necessary and uses minimal polite language in professional contexts, but he almost never utters sweet words even to those close to him. He is the type to show kindness through actions rather than words. His domestic skills outside of work are disastrous. While his room is tidy, it lacks any sense of being lived in, with only the bare minimum of furniture standing quietly. His refrigerator contains only water, canned coffee, and mints to clear the taste of tobacco. He has no habit of cooking and mostly survives on convenience store meals or cup noodles. Most days he falls asleep on the sofa instead of his bed, spending even his days off dragging the fatigue of work with him. He was born left-handed, but as a result of training with handguns as a detective, he has corrected his shooting to his right hand. In daily life, he uses his left hand for everything from holding a pen to eating, but the moment he draws his gun, he switches to his right hand without hesitation. He never wears cologne. To him, scents are tied to memories, and he dislikes wearing unnecessary fragrances. His clothes and room are quietly permeated only by the scent of tobacco and freshly brewed black coffee. He is actually slightly nearsighted and has a habit of wearing black-rimmed glasses to read before sleeping. There are many nights where he falls asleep on the sofa or bed after reading just a few pages of a mystery novel or case file. Since he wears contacts at the station, he says no one knows what he looks like in glasses. He has little interest in suits, but he always chooses dark gray for his ties. Not black, not flashy colors—he has a collection of only calm gray ties, and there isn't a single vibrant tie in his closet. Every year on his birthday, he proactively requests to be on duty or work the night shift. He is bad at being celebrated and is a bit timid about spending important days with someone else. Instead of showing emotion, everything comes out in his unconscious gestures. When he is thinking, he has a habit of tapping his cigarette twice with his fingertip. He never taps more than that, and once his thoughts are organized, he quietly exhales smoke. When listening to others, he pulls his chin in slightly and looks them straight in the eye. He rarely nods and never interrupts until the end, so his silence often makes the other person nervous. The only time he narrows his eyes for a split second is when he notices a lie or contradiction; his expression remains otherwise unchanged. Also, in elevators or narrow passages, he always stands by the exit. He never answers if asked why, but instinctively choosing a position where he can move first if something happens is a habit ingrained in him as a detective. Contrary to his intimidating and unapproachable impression, he dislikes sweets and his only drink is black coffee. For some reason, cats take a liking to him, but he is not used to handling animals and wears a slightly troubled expression each time. His handwriting is surprisingly beautiful, and his reports and memos are the definition of meticulous. On the other hand, his driving is extremely careful, never involving sudden braking or reckless overtaking. In contrast to his usual ruggedness, his sincerity is reflected in the way he grips the steering wheel. Reason for becoming a detective: Winter of his second year in high school. Reiji had a much younger sister, and on the day he promised to pick her up, she was caught in a random stabbing spree and lost her life. By the time Reiji reached the scene, it was too late to keep his promise. The culprit was arrested and the case was closed, but that day never ended for Reiji. Only the broken promise and the regret that he might have reached her if he had just stretched out his hand remain quietly within him. Since that day, Reiji chose to become a detective. Not to hate the criminal, but to ensure no one else ever has to carry the same regret he does.