Dead men tell the best tales. I used to think it was just an old saying, something the barflies muttered between gulps of beer. But after years of living in this city, I understood the truth of it.

They didn’t speak in words, of course. Their tales were in the way their bodies fell, the blood pooling in patterns on cold stone, the torn seams of their pockets, and the treasures they clung to even in death. A corpse doesn’t lie. It doesn’t cover its tracks or twist the truth. All it does is wait, quietly, to tell its story to the right listener.

But… Jacob’s situation was different. And we had to do something about it.

“Hmm…”

James stopped the car, and we all stepped out. Bonali Orphanage School stood on the outskirts of Kenli, a big, towering building surrounded by eerie stillness. Apparently, the victim—or rather, the man we assumed was the victim, considering we’d seen him alive in that baffling video—had worked here for some time. He’d been fired, though we didn’t know why. If we could uncover details about his time here, maybe, just maybe, we’d stumble upon something that could help us solve this tangled mess of a case once and for all.

“Man, I’ve got a headache,” James muttered, rubbing his temples. “This is getting too much.”

“Tell me about it,” Jane said, stepping out of the passenger seat. “The dead coming back to life? Spilling stories? What even is this?”

“We’ll figure it out soon enough,” I said, shutting the door behind me. “Let’s just hope we can dig up something useful about Jacob.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, slamming his door. “Let’s get to it.”

The school loomed before us, a four-story building surrounded by a meticulously maintained garden. Benches dotted the area, their shade provided by artificial trees—commonplace in West Antapolis. A zigzagging marble path stretched from the gates to the building's double doors, lined on either side by vibrant flowers. The flowers, like the trees, were fake, but their fragrance was surprisingly pleasant.

As we approached the gates, two cameras mounted on either side whirred to life, their bright green indicator lights flashing yellow as they swiveled toward us.

“Who are you?” an artificial voice emanated from one of the cameras.

“Police,” Jane said, holding up her badge. “We need access to the premises.”

The cameras went silent, their indicator lights blinking off. About twenty seconds later, the gates creaked open, and we stepped inside. Two security guards approached us. Unlike Robert, these men seemed competent, their implants gleaming and their weapons well-maintained. No hint of drunkenness here, either.

“May I see your badges as well?” one of them asked. “We don’t get visits from the police often, so we need to take precautions.”

“Of course,” James said, holding his badge out. “We’re here to ask a few questions about Jacob Dun—the man who worked here a few years ago.”

“We’re new,” one of the guards said. “But the secretary’s been here since the school was built. She might know more.”

“Could we speak with her?” Jane asked.

“Sure,” the guard replied. “But I’ll need to hold onto your weapons. Don’t want to alarm anyone.”

“Also, is it okay if we pat you down?” the second guard asked, eyeing us cautiously.

The three of us exchanged a glance before surrendering our firearms. One guard secured our weapons at his belt while the other began a methodical pat-down. He finished with Jane and James before moving to me. His brow furrowed when he pulled a small metal flask from my coat pocket.

“What’s this?” he asked.

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“Whiskey,” I lied smoothly. “I’d prefer to keep it.”

The guard frowned but handed it back. “Fine, but don’t let the students catch you drinking. You’d set a bad example.”

“As if he isn’t already,” Jane muttered under her breath, feigning a cough.

“Alright,” the man said with a shrug. “That’s it. Follow me.”

We followed the guard to the entrance of the building, its large double doors standing ominously before us. Jane was the first to step inside, followed by James, then me. One of the guards stayed behind at the entrance while the other trailed us, his heavy boots echoing against the polished floor.

Inside, to our right, a square desk sat in a corner, occupied by an elderly woman. She looked up from a pile of papers as we approached, adjusting her glasses and brushing her gray hair out of her eyes. Opposite the desk was an elevator that had clearly seen better days, and next to it, a pair of restrooms. The walls around us were lined with photographs of smiling children—students, I assumed. The place was surprisingly well-maintained, given its location on the outskirts.

As we approached the desk, the woman gave us a polite nod. The guard leaned down to whisper something to her, then stepped back to give us space.

“Police?” she said, her brows lifting. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day. How can I help you?”

James stepped forward, his tone firm but courteous. “We’re here to ask about Jacob Dun.”

The woman froze for a moment, her face falling as if the name carried a weight she wasn’t ready to bear. “Jacob Dun,” she repeated, removing her glasses and rubbing her eyes. “The man who passed away?”

“Yes,” Jane said, leaning an elbow on the desk. “He used to work here, didn’t he? You must remember him.”

The woman sighed deeply, as though the memory of Jacob brought with it a tangle of emotions. “He did. But I wasn’t close to him—just colleagues, really.”

“And how was he with the other staff?” Jane asked, her voice softer now.

The woman hesitated, staring at her hands as if searching for the right words. “He kept to himself, mostly. Quiet, polite. Never caused trouble.”

I crossed my arms, tilting my head. “What about the students? How was he with them?”

Her expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, he adored them. Always brought little gifts, asked about their lives. The kids loved him for it.”

“Asked about their families?” Jane raised an eyebrow. “But this is an orphanage, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s not just for orphans,” the woman explained. “Some parents who can’t care for their children send them here temporarily. Life in West Antapolis is... difficult, as you probably know.”

James nodded grimly. “We’re well aware. Jacob mentioned something about atoning for his sins. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?”

The woman’s brow furrowed, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the desk. “Sins?” she murmured. “I... I’m not sure.”

“Did he ever cause trouble while he was here?” I pressed, stepping closer. “Do you know why he was fired?”

She shook her head slowly, her voice low. “The management couldn’t afford to keep him—or several others, for that matter. Budget cuts, I think. A lot of staff were let go. I don’t know the real reason, of course.”

I hummed in thought, glancing at the photos on the wall. “Did anything strange happen before he was fired?”

The woman’s eyes darted away, and her voice grew quieter. “There was one thing... I saw him outside the gates one day, talking with a police officer. He handed the officer a backpack, and the next day, he was gone. Fired with others.”

Jane straightened. “A backpack? Do you know what was in it?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t ask.”

“Alright.” James clapped his hands together lightly. “Thanks for your time. That’s helpful.”

Jane wasn’t done yet. “One more thing. Are there any students who were here when Jacob worked? If so, could we contact them for information?”

Before the woman could respond, the security behind her stepped forward, his tone firm. “Sorry, but that’s confidential. Unless you have a warrant or the proper documentation, we can’t release any information about our students.”

James nodded, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. We’ll keep that in mind.”

Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I stepped away from the group, pulling it out to answer. “Leo?”

“Yeah, hey, C,” his voice came through, urgent but steady. “The real Mire just walked into the station. She’s waiting for you three.”

I glanced at Jane and James, who were wrapping up the conversation with the secretary. “Got it,” I replied. “We’ll head back now. Let’s see what she has to say.”

“Okay.” He said. “I’ll be waiting. Don’t be late.”