Building a Lovecraftian Detective Agency

Being a mercenary is hard work.

After reaching the top, Lost finally decided to hang up his guns and go home to open an ordinary detective agency, just to coast through life.

A detective's goals are simple. The cases are anything but.

On opening day, a Mexican crime boss was trapped on his own ranch, with no word from him. The men sent to rescue him never came back.

Lost crossed an entire mountain to reach the ranch. He walked in, asked no questions, slung the man over his back, and calmly headed out.

The boss, jolted awake: "??"

"How can you... not feel your limbs going weak? Your life being drained away? Y-you're making our Mexican gang look weak!"

Half a month after opening, a wealthy businessman's son was trapped on an island.

A huge reward brought detectives, professors, and all sorts of people to the island.

In the middle of the night, everyone was controlled by strange muttering in their dreams. Only Lost took a swig of liquor and continued playing cards with his younger brother. "Plane."

His younger brother, who had a terrible relationship with him but had still insisted on coming, covered his head in exasperation. "Are you deaf?"

Month N after opening, for certain reasons, the Royal Magic Association and Lost temporarily joined forces to protect the Queen.

The Chief Mage pored over a massive tome, frowning. "Don't bother me, savage. I'm reconstructing a very ancient magic array..."

Lost hadn't planned to chat with the mage, but his brother had wandered into the Royal Library and become completely absorbed in it. So Lost sat on the only wooden chair behind the mage and waited. One second, two seconds...

Ten seconds later, Lost, who had already skimmed every manuscript spread across the table, finally couldn't hold back. "Look at this part..."

Lost grabbed a ballpoint pen and filled it in. The magic array on the floor suddenly lit up!

The Chief Mage: "...??"

What the hell! Is there anything you can't do? Are you even human?!

Of course, Lost did have a weakness. His one and only weakness was not knowing how to make things right with his younger brother.

When he finally escaped his former "company" and woke up in the detention center, he had nothing to his name.

The good news: He had a younger brother, who had apparently become some big-shot banker in recent years and was preparing to bail him out.

The bad news: He and his brother hadn't been in touch for hundreds of years, and their relationship was absolutely terrible.

The iron-barred door clanged open. His younger brother stepped into the cell wearing a dark wool coat and removing his leather gloves, dressed like a respectable scoundrel. Beyond him, the warden stood outside the cell, rubbing his hands together and grinning ingratiatingly.

His first words, looking up: "How are you still alive?"

His second: "What are you planning to stir up this time?"

He didn't dare think about how this little brat had once been in love with him.

[Before You Read]

Anyone who read my last book, The Lovecraftian Tune, Full of Charm, can probably guess why the protagonist is a max-level human.

This story has just one fundamental rule that cannot be broken: [Lovecraftian beings can only be sealed or killed by beings of equal or greater power.]

Happy ending, no blood relation.

Theme: Home, sweet home