Karvel and Morrison walked down the long, narrow hallway of the police station. As soon as they stepped into the station, a uniformed officer hurried toward them. He straightened his cap nervously and saluted. His eyes quickly recognized who they were—people with power, people he had to treat with extra care.“You are welcome, sir,” the officer said quickly, his voice almost shaky as he bowed slightly. He guided them toward the back offices where the Divisional Police Officer (DPO) was waiting.Karvel and Morrison exchanged glances but said nothing. They followed the officer through the maze of desks piled high with files, past constables answering phones and scribbling notes in half-torn books. The place was noisy, with voices overlapping, but at the same time there was an underlying laziness in the air.Finally, they reached the DPO’s office. The man himself stood up from behind his large wooden desk as soon as they entered. He was in his late fifties, his uniform stretched tight o

Robert stood in front of the mirror, turning from side to side with a proud smile. He held a new shirt against his chest, admiring how it looked on him. Then he spun toward Patricia, expecting her reaction.“How do I look in this shirt? You think it suits me?” he asked, lifting his chin with pride. “Be honest, it fits me, right?”Patricia didn’t even glance at him. She sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded, her eyes fixed on the floor. When Robert noticed she was ignoring him, his smile faded.“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said, voice sharper now. “Say something.”Patricia let out a long, tired sigh and finally raised her head. Her eyes were cold. “And what exactly do you want me to say, Robert? Do you want me to jump up, clap my hands, and shout, Wow, you look so handsome!? Please. I’m not in the mood for your childishness.”Robert frowned, lowering the shirt. “What’s your problem, Patricia? Why are you always so angry these days?”Patricia laughed bitterly. “My problem? You really

“We lost her… not again,” one of the policemen muttered, slamming his palm against the dashboard. His voice was filled with frustration.“And we don’t have much time,” the other replied, shaking his head.The silence stretched for a moment before the first man spoke again. “Young Master will be so upset. He wanted this done quickly.”The second man sighed. “But what type of business is she even into? Why does she hide so much?”The two men sat there, debating, replaying every move they had seen Mrs. Margret make. They argued in whispers, their voices heavy with suspicion and confusion. An entire hour passed while they kept watch, their eyes never leaving the road.Then, at last, a faint light appeared in the distance. Headlamps.“Look!” one of them pointed.A car was approaching, and as it drew nearer, they recognized it.“It’s her,” the other policeman said. “That’s Margret’s car.”Immediately, they ducked low, waiting for her to pass. When she did, they quietly started their engine

Morrison walked quickly through the long hallway, his head lowered. His master had asked him to fetch tea, but the first kitchen didn’t have what he needed. That was why he was heading to the second office kitchen now. he didn’t notice the people passing him. He stared at the tiled floor as if the answers to his troubles might be written there.At the same time, someone else came walking from the opposite direction. She, too, had her head down, lost in her own thoughts. Neither of them looked up in time.They collided sharply. Their foreheads bumped together hard enough to sting.“Oh! Sorry!” the woman exclaimed, stepping back at once.“Sorry,” Morrison said at the same moment. He rubbed the spot on his head and finally looked properly at her. His eyes widened.“Florida…” His voice softened, almost unsure.She raised her face, her cheeks faintly pink from the impact. “It’s fine,” she murmured. “I should have been careful.”Morrison’s expression shifted at once. His usual sternness di

The door opened with a heavy creak, and several policemen stepped inside. Their boots echoed against the marble floor as they entered the wide office. At once, the air grew tense. The man in front, clearly their leader, stepped forward with his cap tucked under his arm. He bowed respectfully toward the man seated behind the large oak desk.“Good day, young master,” the policeman greeted.Karvel lifted his head slowly. He had been studying a pile of documents before the sudden interruption, but now his sharp eyes fixed on the visitors. The room fell silent except for the steady ticking of the golden clock on the wall. Morrison, his trusted aide, stood close by, watching carefully.“You are welcome,” Karvel said at last, his voice calm but carrying a weight of authority. He leaned back slightly, resting his arm on the chair. “Now tell me—what is going on?”Morrison moved closer, his brows drawn tight. His voice was stern, almost demanding. “What did you find out?”The head policeman shi