The Department of Law Enforcement in Pipra was in a state of sudden, unaccustomed chaos. A meeting of the high-ranking officers had been called out of nowhere—a rare sight indeed.

  Pipra currently had only four high-ranking officers, Liam being the latest addition to the beleaguered group. They worked from the same central office but were each nominally responsible for different areas, districts, and sectors. Beneath them were fifty junior officers, with each senior officer meant to command a squad of ten.

  These numbers were critically insufficient for a town of Pipra's size, which needed at least twelve high-ranking officers and one hundred fifty juniors. This chronic understaffing was because of systemic corruption and a profound lack of care from higher authorities.

  Three of the officers had already gathered in the meeting room, but Liam was still out on his "patrol."

  The atmosphere was tense. Sera, who was fixing her hat, was the first to break the silence. "What is going on here, calling this meeting suddenly? I didn't get a drop of sleep yesterday. I had to manage the whole town during the day and then also do a night patrol. How is this fair, huh?"

  Aers sighed, not even looking at her. "Just wandering around a certain area again and again is not patrolling."

  "At least I was there, unlike some folks," Sera shot back.

  "If you weren't even going to do it properly, then why even bother to begin with?" Aers retorted, his voice dripping with condescension.

  "People like you are the very reason hatred against officers is growing so much these days! Where were you when all those murders were happening? Or when that light show occurred in the sky?"

  "I was not there. Had I been, it would have obviously been settled by now," Aers stated with arrogant finality. "As for the light show, I saw it."

  "So you were awake but just couldn't assist in the patrol, huh?"

  "My concern is limited to my jurisdiction. It is not in my nature to do anything extra beyond what my job explicitly states."

  "Both of you, shut up! At once!"

  The voice that cut through their bickering belonged to Lsaery, the old senior officer amongst them. He thumped the desk, his expression one of weary authority. "It doesn't matter who did what or who was doing what. Focus on the meeting for now. From the looks of it, and how everything is going in this town, we are about to get grilled by someone who isn't even in the field himself."

  Sera rolled her eyes. "Ah, here comes the 'hate on the chief' session by our senior."

  "I would pass," Aers said, leaning back in his chair. "I am not interested in hearing any of it. It's the same set of boring talks."

  Lsaery ignored them, scanning the room. "Where is Liam? He is not here yet. Was he not called?"

  "He's strolling around the city," Sera said with a dismissive wave.

  "During such a serious matter? Bring him now!" Lsaery ordered.

  "His assistant, Tiger, is on it," Aers replied, a sneer in his voice. "But I suggest not waiting for him. I mean, what is that loser even going to add to this whole thing?"

  Just as Aers finished his dismissive comment, the door to the meeting room swung open with a force that bordered on violence. The three local officers turned their heads, their attention snapped toward the sudden, unannounced guests.

  Seven of the newcomers looked like high-profile knights, their bearing and lavish attire marking them as either the private guard of a count or a specialized unit from the imperial army. The opulence of three in particular leaned toward them being knights in the direct service of the local count.

  Accompanying them were two other men. Both appeared to be in their mid-forties, but their bodies told a different story. They were solidly built, with an immediate, tangible aura of strength and discipline that marked them as officers from a larger, more important city—professionals who had seen real action.

  Sera was the first to speak, her voice laced with sarcastic ire. "And who would you be, our uncalled guests?"

  Lsaery's eyes narrowed, his tone one of weary authority. "Where are your manners? Not even a knock?"

  One of the two officers, a man with a cool, assessing gaze, pulled out a chair for his companion before speaking. "Well, I didn't think anyone would be inside, so I didn't bother," he said, his voice calm and utterly unapologetic. "And it's not like we need an invitation." He gestured casually. "I am Officer Dave, and this here is my colleague, Officer Nosfraet. Oh, don't bother introducing yourselves, we already know you guys. Isn't it about meeting time by now?"

  Aers bristled at the condescension. "Officer, could you really not hear the main question? We mean, why are you here? Though I have an idea, at least elaborate."

  Nosfraet, the other officer, let out a low, dismissive chuckle. "Chill down, young blood. We are here exactly why you think we are. Explaining is the duty of your chief, not ours. Though, if our presence is bothering you that much, you should have done your work better."

  Aers's face flushed with rage, but Sera cut in before he could retort. A sharp, calculating look had replaced her exhaustion. "I see, I see. Well then, let's get this meeting started. I'm pretty curious myself now."

  Without waiting for permission from anyone, she reached out and tapped the communication orb on the table, activating it to connect with their chief.

  Dave's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Ohh, hey! What's with this lack of professionalism? That's not how things are done, lady."

  The orb connected, and the Chief's voice, laced with impatience, filled the room.

  “What is this? The meeting isn’t supposed to start yet. You guys are fifteen minutes early!”

  Everyone looked at Sera, who didn't seem to mind the accusation. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying it. Aers allowed himself a small, grim smile.

  "Well, whatever, let's begin," the Chief continued. "Is everyone there? Today we were supposed to have some guests—"

  "Ya, we have arrived," Nosfraet interrupted, his voice a dry drawl. "And received a rather warm welcome. Let me fill in who's here. For starters, our lord, the great Duke of Foekest, has sent us to assist in the search and capture of the killer. We have come with a troop of three hundred. And as we entered, it looks like the Count has also sent seven of his high-ranking knights. And there are also these three nobodies."

  The comment was not well received by the three local officers. It felt like their authority was being trampled.

  They had not been informed of this visit, despite it involving three hundred soldiers—a large force to enter a town without any notice, even if sent by a Duke.

  And now, in the meeting, they were still being kept in the dark about what was truly happening. Why were higher authorities that normally never bothered with Pipra suddenly so interested?

  They were unaware—or simply had not been told, that Princess Irine had sent a formal letter to the Department, demanding they sort out the killer matter.

  The Law Enforcement Department, a public institution, finally had to take it seriously. The moment the Duke also received this news, and since Pipra was in his region, he had preemptively sent his own state officers instead of letting the Department do its work, all to preserve the name and dominance of his duchy.

  "First of all," the Chief's voice crackled through the orb, "let me tell you the reason why everyone is here today. It is simply to catch the infamous killer, today, at any cost, and to take care of any problematic elements. There is no point in stating the obvious, so let's not waste time. A special task force is created for that purpose alone, and it will be led by—"

  As he spoke, another figure entered the room. She wore the same attire as the other high officers, such as Liam and Sera. She had brown hair, green eyes, and a confident, disciplined look that spoke only of sharp focus.

  Seeing the meeting had started, she spoke crisply. "My apologies for my subsequent delay. I was not informed the meeting would start early. Again, I apologize." She offered a brief, formal bow of her head before joining the table.

  "No issue," the Chief said. "I was just talking about you. Everyone, meet Monica Feasta, the newest high-ranking officer of Pipra, who is also soon to be appointed as Deputy Chief. She is the one who will lead the task force."

  Monica stood. "I couldn't be more glad to assist the task force. I will deliver the best I can, and I hope you will be kind enough to trust me."

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  Her words, however, felt hollow and indifferent, more a recited formality than a genuine aspiration. It was as if she knew what was about to come.

  And it did. Immediately.

  "Chief," Dave interjected, his tone deceptively reasonable. "Don't you think this girl is rather too young to lead such an important task force? While I don't doubt her capability, I also don't believe it is right. In such matters, experience is more needed than just talent."

  Nosfraet added his own argument, his voice hardening. "This is an elite force of three hundred troops, seven high-ranking and capable knights, and, not to brag, two very senior and experienced personnel of the Duke. Is it really okay to let her have command over us? We can't afford to mess this up."

  The bureaucratic bickering was a vortex that seemed impossible to escape. For five minutes straight, the Chief and the two senior officials argued, their voices a tangled mess of protocol and pride. No one else spoke.

  The three local officers remained silent, seething. Monica sat with a placid, unreadable expression.

  The seven knights from the Count observed it all, odd, careless smiles playing on their lips as if watching a mildly entertaining play.

  Finally, one of the knights, a young woman, raised a gauntleted hand. The gesture cut through the noise.

  "If I have a say in this matter," she began, her voice clear and calm, "may I propose an idea to solve this disagreement?"

  The Chief's sigh was audible through the orb. "Go ahead. What do you have to say now?"

  She gave a polished smile before speaking. "I suggest we divide the task force into two. One will be led by the senior, experienced officials, and the other by Officer Monica. The three hundred troops will, of course, be under the senior group. The existing Pipra guards and officers will be under the second group, led by Officer Monica. As for us,"

  She gestured to his fellow knights, "we will divide ourselves and take orders from both leaders, acting as a bridge between the two units. This should work efficiently."

  Dave, recognizing the proposal was flawed but gave him the autonomous command he desired, immediately seized on it. "Ya, let's do that. It should be okay, right, Monica?" he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

  Sera, Aers, and Lsaery sensed the disrespect was not just growing but becoming openly brazen. Yet, the three of them chose silence.

  They had already been effectively dethroned, and they knew that opening their mouths now would only turn the volatile situation completely upside down.

  Monica's response was as cool and hollow as her introduction. "I have no issue, as long as we can start working instead of bickering."

  "Fine," the Chief's voice crackled, heavy with resignation. "Do as you like. But before discussing the plan for tonight, all of you introduce yourselves to each other."

  The same knight who had proposed the solution spoke again. "About that... We knights were sent by Count Loren. We have been assigned numbers to use while on field work. We do not have permission to disclose our names. Please understand."

  Dave raised an eyebrow. "That's new. I haven't heard of something like that. Is the Count really that secretive a person?"

  Nosfraet grunted in agreement. "Well, the letter of introduction didn't mention any names, so I guess they must be part of his personal guard. If he's going that far as to not even tell us their names... I've heard he is a mysterious man. I guess anything is possible with him."

  "Then tell us your numbers, if that's the case," Dave said.

  The lead knight nodded, her expression unreadable. "You may call me K2," she said smoothly. Her eyes were sharp and steady, scanning the room with the calm assurance of a seasoned strategist.

  Second knight, tall and broad-shouldered, ran a hand through his hair before speaking. "I am K3. A pleasure to work with you," he said, his easy smile hinting at a relaxed, underlying confidence.

  The third, with a sun-weathered face and a grim set to his jaw, stated firmly, "I am K5."

  Fourth, lean and precise in his movements, added, "I am K6," his amber eyes flicking attentively over the assembled officers as if already cataloging their weaknesses.

  Fifth knight, a woman with her hair pulled back in a severe braid, stepped forward. Her gaze was steely and unyielding. "I am K17," she offered, her tone curt and final.

  Sixth knight, a man who was tall and wiry with a faint, mischievous glint in his eyes, gave a slight, almost imperceptible bow of his head. "I am K7."

  The last knight, broad-chested and imposing, folded his arms. His voice was a low rumble that commanded respect. "I am K33."

  Each stood fully armored yet unhelmeted, their faces a gallery of starkly different personalities, their combined presence felt commanding.

  As they finished, the two senior officers from the Duke didn't bother to reintroduce themselves, their sense of superiority clear. The local officers, however, had no such luxury.

  Sera went first, her voice tight with suppressed resentment. "I am Sera."

  Aers followed, his tone sullen and defeated. "I am Officer Aers."

  Lsaery, the senior among them, spoke with a weary, battered authority. "Officer Lsaery."

  A tense silence had begun to settle in the wake of the introductions when the Chief's voice crackled from the orb once more, sharp with impatience.

  "Where is Liam? Why is he not saying anything?"

  Sera didn't look up from the table. "He is not here."

  "Then where is he?" the Chief shouted, his voice distorting slightly through the magical connection.

  Aers bristled at the tone and replied in a similarly sharp, though deceptively formal, manner. "He is outside, patrolling. It looks like he wasn't told to be here. Like any of us were told about any of this to begin with."

  "Officer, mind your tone!" the Chief snapped. "You are getting too out of hand these days."

  "Of course. Of course," Aers repeated, his voice dripping with sarcastic deference. "We are the ones getting out of hand."

  "I told that Liam that if he did not take his duties seriously, I would demote him. But it looks like he doesn't take me seriously. Tell him he can say goodbye to his position soon."

  With that final, furious pronouncement, the orb's glow died, and the connection severed.

  In the heavy quiet that followed, Sera leaned toward Aers, her voice a low whisper. Monica, sitting nearby, accidentally overheard.

  "Looks like someone is going to be the sole target of all the Chief's frustration now."

  Aers let out a short, humorless laugh. "What else is that old man capable of? Though, to be fair... Liam does deserve it."

  Liam walked back to the department after Tiger notified him of the meeting. He had left the junior officer to keep an eye on Anna, giving him some gibberish reason for that. Tiger, due to his nature, didn't question.

  As he entered, he barely registered the countless eyes fixed on him. The first thing he noticed was that nothing seemed out of order. It was the same as usual, everyone going about their business. The horrifying normality indicated the meeting was already over.

  Oh shit, I missed it. I have to get the background from Sera or Aers. Huh. Both of them are a pain in the ass to deal with. More importantly, that Chief will eat me alive.

  With a sigh, he moved toward his office. As he opened the door, he found someone else sitting in his chair, as if waiting for him.

  It was Monica, her palm resting on her cheek, elbow propped on the table. She looked at him with a cold, unreadable expression. "Oh, the infamous, brave, and most competent officer of the town is back from his patrol."

  Liam immediately sensed the awkward, charged tension in the air. "I am, of course I am. Had I not been, would I be standing here? But that aside, do I get to know the mysterious person behind that smile?"

  "I am Monica," she stated, not moving. "The new officer of this town, who will also be in charge of you."

  "Oh, is that so?" Liam replied, forcing a casual tone. "In that case, my lady, you are in the wrong place. This is my office. Yours might be somewhere else, perhaps on the second floor."

  Monica cut him off, her voice was calm but cold. "Taking things from vendors without paying. Eating free food in restaurants. Using junior officers as your chauffeurs. Not doing your job properly, or not doing anything at all. Disrespecting your subordinates and seniors. And taking bribes from criminals."

  She looked at him with serious, disappointed, and angry eyes. "Before coming here, I heard the tales of you from your previous postings. How you slacked in work, your poor behavior, and countless such tales which led to your transfers from one place to another, even though you should have been fired on the spot at the first instance."

  She stood, walking toward him. "I thought there might be a chance of falsification, that you might not be as bad as the stories. But it turns out you are worse." Monica reached Liam and snatched the cap from his head. "Do you really deserve this hat?"

  Liam stood there, hearing it all. He really didn't have anything to say. If anything, he knew this was bound to happen someday, and it would be a test of his resolve.

  "You are mistaken, ma'am. There is some misunderstanding," he finally managed.

  "That box full of cash in your drawer is also a mistake?" she countered.

  "That is money I have confiscated and put under the register. You can check it, it does not belong to me."

  "But how did you get it? What explanation do you have for that? Don't fool me. I have seen many like you."

  She moved back, her gaze sweeping over him with contempt. "What should be your punishment here? Should I fire you? But your father won't let me do it. Demoting you might work, but I would still not be satisfied with just that much. Someone like you does not deserve this place."

  In one sudden, violent motion, she yanked Liam by the collar and hurled him into the bullpen, every eye in the room snapping toward him.

  Before he could even rise, her hand struck his cheek three times, each blow sharp enough to daze him and send him sprawling onto his back. Without hesitation, she planted her foot firmly on his chest, holding him down. Her voice was cold and unyielding.

  "You are suspended—indefinitely. Don’t you dare show your face here again."

  Liam's face was pressed against the cold floor.

  "Throw him out after taking his uniform!" Monica ordered the stunned juniors.

  Liam struggled to his feet. "That won't be needed." He removed his jacket and handed it to a nearby junior officer. He was about to walk away.

  "Stop," Monica commanded.

  Liam looked back with a strained smile. "I won't stop that easily, ma'am. Not even if you apologize to me now."

  "Who is apologizing?" she said, her voice icy. "I said your whole uniform. That shirt, those pants, those shoes—they are also part of it."

  Liam was shocked. "What? Come on, ma'am! I don't have a change of clothes here! How will I go back home?"

  "Not my problem."

  Liam, his arms now crossed over his chest in a futile gesture of modesty, pleaded, "I'll return it tomorrow."

  "No. You will give it to me yourself, or I will have to use force."

  "This is power harassment!" Liam protested.

  Monica smiled a cold, vicious smile. "Just like you were doing it with others."

  Shocked, embarrassed, and out of options, Liam, under the horrified and amused gazes of the entire department, shamefully removed his remaining clothes and ran out into the market in nothing but his underwear.