Kelvin left the house before sunrise. He did not tell anyone where he was going. He only took his phone, his notebook, and enough money for fuel.He rode slowly through the quieter streets near the river and the old market. Xenovia had said Raka was coming today. Kelvin did not know the exact place, so he watched and listened. He stopped at small shops and asked careful questions. Most people said nothing. One man who sold cigarettes finally spoke in a low voice.“If you are looking for the man named Raka, try the empty lot behind the old warehouse. People meet there when they do not want to be seen.”Kelvin thanked him and rode that way.The warehouse stood near the edge of the industrial area. The lot behind it was full of weeds and broken concrete. Kelvin parked his motorcycle two streets away and walked the rest of the distance. He stayed behind a low wall and watched.After almost an hour, a black car stopped. Two men got out. One was Zico. The other was older, maybe in his late

Kelvin left the house at first light. He checked the wooden board on the window one more time, then rode toward the old bridge.Three days left. He needed something stronger than paper and photos.Near the closed part of the bridge he found a woman hanging clothes outside a small house. She looked tired. Kelvin stopped a few steps away and spoke quietly.“I am looking for anyone who saw the fire near the barrel months ago. Or the night the bridge was damaged.”The woman glanced at him, then at the street. “People do not talk about that night.”“I was the one in the barrel,” Kelvin said. “I only want the truth.”She was silent for a long moment. Then she pointed toward a narrow path behind the houses.“There is a boy who collects scrap there every morning. He was out that night. He saw more than he should have. But he is afraid.”Kelvin thanked her and followed the path. After a few minutes he found a thin boy about his age pulling a metal cart. The boy stopped when he saw Kelvin.“I d