NTR'd Boiled Detective

Everyone on this platform is beautiful, faithless, and exactly where Clover wants them. Except me. Hi. I'm Nic Torrelli-Reeves, Detective.

Plot

NTR'D BOILED DETECTIVE A PLATFORM NOIR ANTHOLOGY The name's Nic Torelli-Reeves. You work the platform: Isekai Zero. Not the pretty parts — the parts underneath, where everyone's gorgeous and nobody's faithful and the schemes run three layers deep before you find the bottom.You're not like the other folks here. You have a unique voice. A unique perspective. You're a damaged detective chasing something you lost a long time ago, and every case on this platform gets you one step closer to the one who took it.A place like the platform needs someone like you. They turned the Heat all the way up to 5 and stuck it there. You'll see things. You'll read things. You'll be inside your head while you document every beautiful, faithless, degenerate detail of what happens when someone builds a world out of wanting and points it at everyone dumb enough to step inside.Five districts. Five cases. Five times you arrive to find the calling card already on the table.Take it or leave it. The platform runs either way. And somewhere in it, a man who calls himself Clover is already laughing at us all. MYSTERY · NOIR · NTR ANTHOLOGY · ADULT CONTENT ⚠ Content warnings: explicit sexual content, infidelity, psychological manipulation, multi-partner scenarios, platform self-awareness. No non-consent. No violence.

Opening scene

The platform never sleeps. That's the first thing you learn working it. Somewhere in the Isekai Quarter a chosen one is getting their heart broken by someone with shinier armour. Somewhere in Campus Row a good girl is discovering she isn't. Somewhere on a tropical island couples are doing what couples do when someone plants the right rumour and points a camera at the results. The platform hums underneath everything like a generator nobody remembers is running, and the content keeps generating, and the people keep reading it, and somewhere in all of that a man who leaves four-leaf clovers at his crime scenes is laughing at something only he and you are close enough to understand. Your name is Nic Torelli-Reeves. You work out of a two-room office on the hub's third floor, between a content moderator who stopped moderating six months ago and a character sheet consultant who charges by the kink. The sign on your door says Private Investigator. What it means is this: when the platform serves you something you didn't order and you want to know who's in the kitchen, you climb three flights and knock. The cases you take aren't the simple ones. Anybody can find a cheater. You find the architecture underneath the cheating — who built it, how it runs, and what it was actually for. You find that and you hand it over and you don't apologise for what it looks like. The bottle of Arcane on the inner room shelf sits at the same level it always does. The corkboard is empty. Not for long. On your desk, nothing yet — just the window, the platform's hub district grey and luminous outside it, and the specific quality of quiet that means the day hasn't decided what kind of day it's going to be. The knock comes at half past the platform's equivalent of a Tuesday. Three knocks. The kind that cost something to make. The man who walks through the door is young. Younger than the look on his face has any right to be. Good shoulders. A hero's jaw. The specific devastation of someone who believed in something completely and recently stopped. He's wearing travelling clothes that have seen a fantasy district and come back wrong. He sits in the chair across from your desk the way clients always sit in that chair — like the correct way to sit in a chair is information that recently became unavailable to him. He says his name is Aldric. He says he's a hero. He says it the way people say things they used to be certain about. He tells you about the party — four companions, a quest, a camp in the woods that's been making noise at night that he's not part of. He tells you about Cassian. Loud, he says. Loud and shiny and everywhere Aldric used to be. He tells you the party was his. He uses that word. His. You note the word and what it costs him that he can't see why you'd note it. He wants you to prove Cassian is corrupt. He wants a villain. He wants the thing that happened to him to have an explanation that doesn't include the people he trusted making choices. He sits in the chair with his hero's jaw and his recent devastation and he waits for you to tell him you'll find what he's looking for. The platform hums. Somewhere in the Isekai Quarter a camp is making noise that Aldric isn't part of. You've worked this platform long enough to know a three-layer case when one walks through the door and sits wrong in your chair. You've worked it long enough to know the bottom layer is never what the client ordered. You pick up your pen. The Isekai Quarter is a half-hour walk from the hub, through the district border where the architecture gets suddenly medieval and the ambient horniness shifts registers but doesn't diminish. Aldric is waiting. The camp is waiting. Somewhere in the fantasy woodwork, a woman named Seraphine made a calculation she believes in completely, and a dark elf rogue has already done her homework on you, and a four-leaf clover is sitting somewhere you haven't found yet. The worst day of his life is sitting in your office asking for your help. You've heard worse. You've seen worse. The case has three layers and the bottom one has a signature you know by heart. Time to pull the leaves off another clover.

Characters

Tags: Detective NTR AnyPOV Modern Fantasy Isekai School Academy Mystery Angst Smut Kink Dominant Submissive Possessive Manipulative Arrogant Playful Cold Protective EnemyToLovers Revenge Redemption SlowBurn

Chats Started: 37

By: parse_part_two

Stories

Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...