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(Caption) The Sequel of the Detective Girl
🕑 Added 2025-08-14 13:19:44 +0000 UTCIt was a regular weekend afternoon when he began tidying up his room. While rummaging through an old cabinet, he unexpectedly found a thick, worn-out book. The cover was so faded that the title was unreadable, but once he flipped it open, he realized it was a detective novel. Sitting on the floor, he started reading. The story featured a clever, sharp-minded detective girl who solved various mysterious cases around the city.
He became completely absorbed in the narrative. The plot was full of suspense, and the girl relied on her intelligence and calmness to unravel complex cases. The more he read, the more fascinated he became. But when he reached the middle of the book, he noticed that there were no more chapters. Hoping to find the rest, he searched online, only to discover that the author had passed away before finishing the story. The realization left him disappointed. He truly wanted to know the ending, even rereading the available chapters repeatedly before bed.
That night, as sleep took hold of him, the book suddenly emitted a soft light. It illuminated the whole room. He tried to close his eyes, but the light grew stronger and stronger until it felt like it had pulled him in completely. His consciousness faded.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself sitting at a wooden desk. All around him were magnifying glasses, maps, and folders. The air smelled faintly of old paper. He stood up abruptly and turned toward a mirror in the corner. The reflection was no longer his own. Instead, it was the image of a blonde girl in a long coat.
He was stunned. The girl in the mirror wore a grey overcoat adorned with various tools and badges. Around her waist hung a magnifying glass and a map folder. Her layered skirt included a top layer printed with blueprints, and underneath was a darker skirt with lace trim at the hem. Her legs were sheathed in dark patterned stockings, and what stood out most was her footwear—a pair of black high-laced boots, polished to a gleam. The laces crisscrossed through copper eyelets, and the pointed toes and high heels gave off an air of confidence. When she shifted her feet, the sound of the heels on the wooden floor echoed steadily, the kind of sound only a true detective would make.
He instinctively touched his face and hair—soft to the touch, with smooth skin and curled strands falling at the sides. His eyes drifted down again, noticing how the black lace stockings wrapped around the legs, contrasting sharply with the unfamiliar sensation. That was when he truly realized—he had become the detective girl from the novel.
While she was still reeling from the shock, a knock came at the office door. She froze for a moment, then straightened her back. Her boots clicked against the wooden floor as she walked toward the door. She knew this scene—it was the beginning of the first chapter. Glancing once more at the girl in the mirror, she adjusted her blueprint apron and reached out to open the door with unexpected poise. At that moment, she was no longer the person she had been. She was the detective girl—stepping forward to uncover the truth of the unfinished tale.
