"Claude, you know what to do."

"Yes, boss."

I watch the station as the patrol car’s engine dies.

Stepping out alongside Claude, we enter the building. The checkered floor, the chandelier hanging over the staircase, the steps leading down to the case archives, the ones leading up to the “offices.”

At first glance, the station seems less oppressive than it truly is. Its glass-paneled walls allow everything to be seen from every angle, but that's where its trap lies. There are no dark corners here, no secrets. Every step is exposed. Every glance is watched.

I ascend the stairs while Claude remains downstairs, waiting for Andrew. That cream-colored hair has caused him plenty of trouble around here.

I see the office. ‘Commissioner.’ Ironic.

I open the door. The air inside is thick, charged with contempt, desperation, and fear. "Frank, the Chief Commissioner will arrive in 30 minutes."

I look down at him. "Do what’s expected of you. And button your shirt."

I walk out, the door slamming behind me. The Chief Commissioner is on his way.

I search for Claude and find him arguing with Andrew. I don’t need to get close to sense the tension between them. Muted whispers, sharp looks. I need to intervene before this escalates.

"You don’t trust me? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? A revolver to my temple, Lorraine. I’m not going through that again."

"That’s the problem, Sinclair. You walked into this on your own."

"Gentlemen, the Chief Commissioner is arriving in minutes. Let’s save this for later. Claude, button up your shirt. Andrew, tie your hair back. You know the plan."

"Yes, Captain."

"Good. At any moment now…"

The main door creaks open with a heavy groan, announcing the arrival of the Chief Commissioner. His spotless uniform and the sheer weight of his authority silence the station as if someone had sucked the air out of the room. An officer straightens so fast his chair scrapes against the floor. No one dares breathe more than necessary. Every step he takes echoes across the checkered floor.

"This station reeks of chaos and cover-ups." He brushes off his epaulets as if the air itself were polluted.

"Chief Commissioner, a pleasure to see you."

"Greetings, Alexander. I’ll speak with you in a few minutes."

Perfect.

As he walks, he inspects every corner. He evaluates the space. He evaluates the people. His gaze lingers on Andrew, still waiting at reception. The cream-colored hair stands out. But the Commissioner doesn’t stop. He has a goal.

He climbs the stairs with purpose. The glass walls allow him to see everything from above, an unrelenting observer. Upon reaching the door marked ‘Commissioner,’ he pauses briefly, adjusts his right glove, and knocks—without waiting for a reply.

In a matter of minutes, that conversation will be over.

"Claude, start the plan. Get the evidence. Andrew, you know what to do. We’re bringing him down."

"There’s no room for error today. No second chances."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Killing a noble isn’t the problem. The problem is getting caught. Bastard without glory."

A few seconds later, Claude hands me a detailed document outlining the case. "Frank, Commissioner of Tyrholm, from the Grimgem region..."

I skim through it. I recognize Andrew’s handwriting—a level of detail too precise, a penmanship worthy of a blueblood.

I hear the door slam open. I hear footsteps. I ready the document and glance at Andrew. "Take it. You know your part."

Descending the stairs, the Chief Commissioner watches Andrew expectantly, as if he already knows what’s about to happen.

"Chief Commissioner, please review this document. It has been submitted by Alexander’s unit regarding a critical case."

I see his gloved hands unfold the papers, allowing the station’s suffocating air to taint them. He tilts the sheet so his shadow doesn’t obscure the text. A few seconds later, he closes the file.

With his thumb and forefinger, he rubs his eyes, as if trying to erase what he just read. His lips move, but he doesn’t speak. Then, he looks at me.

"Alexander, you know what this means."

"Yes, Chief Commissioner. And you know what it will mean if this goes public. The newspapers would kill for a story like this. I’m giving you an option… What’s your choice?"

"Alexander, you’ve grown a lot. There is a new commissioner. As of today, you are the eagle that watches and hunts in Grimgem."

"By the way, Alexander, the Voldaine district needs assistance. They’ve uncovered something they can’t cover up. You know our regulations. There’s movement around the clock."

I exhale a nearly imperceptible sigh.

"Understood, Chief Commissioner. I wish you a safe journey."

As he exits, the suffocating tension in the air dissipates, as if the station itself had been unshackled. My men breathe a collective sigh of relief.

"Andrew, you heard the Chief Commissioner. We need to find out where that damn clock is. We've been searching for over a week now."

"Claude, how many watchmakers in Voldaine have sold that model?"

At this point, I don’t know if it was a convenient theft… or a message. But from whom?

The only thing I know about that watch is minimal, and even that much can’t be spoken aloud.

It’s 9:00.

In fifteen minutes, Claude will return with the list of watchmakers. By 10:00, I need to be out of here. It’s time to find that waste of time.

In the meantime, I should see if Frank cleaned out my office. I need to dig through those records. Frank never used them. Never cared. That’s why we had to orchestrate his downfall. Someone indifferent to the secrets of the past was useless.

Reaching my office, I find it immaculately clean, as if Frank had ceased to exist. "So that’s where it was. That key."

I search for something. Dust. A crack. A memory.

It’s like a space never revealed. Like a secret never unlocked. Hmm.

I quickly lose interest and focus on moving my belongings into the office. While I’m doing so, Andrew approaches. I already see it in his face. I know what he’s going to ask.

"Captain, can you tell me the real reason for the distrust? I know Claude hates nobles—he doesn’t even try to hide it—but with you, it’s different. What sets me apart? What makes me useless in the eyes of the unit?"

"Andrew, do you know why my entire unit is made up of young people?"

"Because younger officers are easier to mold and control compared to veterans."

Partially correct.

"Look deeper into your place in my unit."

"The primary reason is for you to leverage my status."

Not a lie. But there’s one final piece.

"Do you know the difference between someone born into the system at 21 and someone at 26?"

"One was born into a military state. The other wasn’t."

"Exactly. But there’s something more."

I pause, giving him room to think, but not too much.

"We were all born into the dictatorship. We know nothing else. We have no ‘before’ to cling to, no ‘after’ to imagine. Only the ‘now’ they’ve instilled in us."

Andrew frowns but stays silent.

"Veterans can doubt. They can compare it to what came before. But we… we don’t have that luxury. We are the generation without memories."

I see his jaw tighten. He’s young, but not naive.

"And most importantly, Andrew… if we’ve never known anything else, how could we ever betray it?"

"Andrew, you are on the edge, but know this—although we are tools, I will do everything in my power to protect each person in my unit. I will be pragmatic, but I will also seek solutions while uncovering more about the past…"

If the rebellion were just a group of senseless terrorists, they would have been wiped out long ago. No one fights this hard for something meaningless. I don’t remember the war—only what they taught us about it. But there are gaps. Too many. Something doesn’t fit.

"It’s not about never doubting, Andrew. It’s about making sure that, when you do, no one notices."

"Yes, Captain. I won’t disappoint you again."

The timing is perfect. Claude arrives and hands me the report—every watchmaker, every sale, every owner.

"Here, boss."

"Time to move. Follow me, Andrew. You’re driving. I’ll figure out the best lead."