The Lost Wallet Mystery

The automatic doors chimed, letting in a breath of cool night air. I adjusted my apron for what had to be the fifth time. The store was unusually quiet—no customers, no noise—just the low hum of the refrigerators and the faint flicker of the ceiling lights that looked as tired as I felt.

Another glamorous evening at the convenience store.

I paced the aisles like a mall cop on patrol, nodding seriously at the instant ramen shelf. “All clear. Cup noodles accounted for. The city sleeps peacefully tonight,” I whispered.

“Talking to the food again, Ryota?”

I nearly dropped the basket in my hands. Miyu was leaning against the counter, sleeves rolled up, her expression sharp enough to cut through the silence.

“I....I was just doing a stock check,” I said quickly.

“Sure. Must be a riveting conversation. Did the chips tell you any secrets?”

“It’s called attention to detail,” I muttered, straightening a pack of gum that was already straight.

She smirked. “Attention to detail? You’ve lined up the gum so neatly it looks like you’re proposing to it.”

My ears went hot. “I—I like things organized, okay?”

Before she could fire back another jab, the doors chimed again, and a man burst in like we’re being robbed.

He was middle-aged, sweaty, tie askew, eyes darting between aisles. He looked like a man on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

“My wallet—it’s gone!” he gasped. “I was here earlier! I must’ve dropped it!”

I froze. Okay, crisis mode. Smile. Stay calm. What do employees do again?

“Uh, s-sir,” I stammered, “please, uh, retrace your—”

Miyu stepped forward smoothly, bowing slightly. “When were you last here?”

The man ran a trembling hand through his hair. “An hour ago. I bought cigarettes and water. Please, my salary envelope was inside. My whole paycheck!”

My stomach twisted. I couldn’t imagine losing that much money. For a second, I saw my own empty wallet and shuddered.

“Ryota,” Miyu said, snapping me out of it, “check the aisles. I’ll handle the counter.”

“R-right!” I saluted before realizing how stupid that looked, then dashed off like some rookie cop on his first case.

I crouched by the snack aisle, scanning the floor. Dust. A crumpled receipt. A single rebellious potato chip glaring up at me.

Detective Aizawa, case file: missing wallet, no leads, low morale. Suspect list: chip crumbs and despair.

I checked under the magazine rack, behind the drink cooler, even under the gachapon machine. Nothing.

“Any luck, Detective?” came Miyu’s voice.

I jumped, hitting my head on the shelf. “Ow...no! Still searching!”

She crouched beside me, her phone flashlight cutting through the shadows. “You look like a raccoon caught stealing snacks.”

“I’m being thorough,” I said, rubbing my head. “Real detectives start from the ground up.”

“Literally,” she said. Then, softer: “We’ll find it. Don’t panic.”

For a moment, the world shrank to just us, kneeling between shelves, surrounded by the hum of machines and the smell of instant coffee. It almost felt peaceful. Well, if you ignored the panic.

When I got to the trash bin near the counter, I paused. This was my last hope—and possibly my downfall.

“Alright,” I muttered to myself, “if I don’t come back, tell the gum I loved it.”

I reached in, grimacing, and my hand brushed something soft and familiar. Leather.

“Wait—I think I found something!”

I pulled it out—a black wallet, smudged but intact.

The man rushed over, eyes wide. “That’s it! That’s my wallet!”

“Hold on,” Miyu said, lifting a hand. “Let’s confirm it’s his.”

She opened it carefully. Inside was an ID, a stack of bills, and a photo of a smiling woman and child.

The man’s voice cracked. “That’s my wife and daughter. Please—”

Miyu’s expression softened. “Then it’s definitely yours.” She handed it to him with a small bow.

He clutched it like a lifeline. “Thank you. You two saved me.”

I scratched my cheek awkwardly. “Ah, it was nothing. Just another day in the Detective office.”

Miyu gave me a look halfway between amusement and pity. “Truly, a hero of the people.”

After he left, the doors chimed shut and the store settled back into its quiet rhythm. I leaned against the counter, exhaling. “That was intense. I thought he was going to faint.”

“You panicked like someone trying to defuse a ticking time bomb,” Miyu said, sipping her tea.

“Hey, I found the wallet, didn’t I?”

“After nearly diving headfirst into the trash. Very dignified.”

I groaned. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not when I can put it on your employee review: Aizawa Ryota, excellent with trash retrieval.”

I put a hand over my heart. “I’ll wear that title with pride.”

Miyu actually laughed—not the usual sharp chuckle, but a quiet, genuine laugh that made my chest feel weirdly warm. I pretended to busy myself with the register before I could smile like an idiot.

Later, as we restocked the drink cooler, she slid bottles into neat rows while I tried to stop thinking about her laugh.

“You did well tonight,” she said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Finding the wallet. Staying calm enough to help. Not bad.”

I blinked at her. Praise from Miyu was like seeing a shooting star—you question if it even happened.

“T-thanks,” I mumbled. “Though I did consider giving up for about five seconds.”

“I figured,” she said, glancing at me. “But you didn’t.”

That might’ve been the nicest thing she’d ever said to me.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she added quickly.

Too late. I was already composing a victory speech in my head.

When our shift finally ended, we stepped out into the night. The neon sign buzzed above us, painting the pavement a soft blue.

“Today was weirdly eventful,” I said, stretching.

“The same as usual,” she replied, adjusting her bag.

“Guess I’ll need to level up my detective skills,” I said.

She gave me a sidelong look. “Just don’t lose your own wallet, Detective.”

“Low blow,” I grumbled, but she smiled, a small, genuine one that made the whole day feel worthwhile.

As she walked off into the glow of the streetlight, I thought about the man clutching his wallet, tears in his eyes.

I thought about the small moments, helping someone, sharing a laugh, earning a smile from the person who usually pretends not to care.

maybe that was the kind of treasure worth finding.