After cleaning the entire room, Cassandra stood still for a moment in the middle of the detective office, now looking more alive than it had in years. The dust was gone, and sunlight began to dance across the piles of files and the old wooden desk that had long been untouched. With calm steps, she walked toward the corner of the room where the automatic water heater was placed.
She pressed a button, and a soft bubbling sound began to hum as the water heated. While waiting, Cassandra moved to the wall-mounted work cabinet and opened the neatly arranged drawers. Wire cutters, soldering irons, tin wire, a mini drill, tiny screwdrivers, and various other precision tools were taken out one by one.
Soon, the water boiled. She poured it into a clear glass already filled with black coffee powder. The aroma of coffee slowly spread, filling the space with a warm atmosphere.
Cassandra sat at the worktable, right next to the water heater, and turned on a desk lamp with a round head pointed directly at the table's surface. She put on her glasses—not ordinary glasses, but optical lenses designed specifically for viewing tiny components with high precision.
"Alright..." she muttered softly, half to herself.
From the inner pocket of her jacket, she pulled out a stolen military access card taken from the border—a small item capable of opening doors to places regular civilians weren't allowed. Then she unclasped her old wristwatch and placed it atop a soft cloth.
With the care of a surgeon, Cassandra slowly cut the chip from the card, ensuring its internal structure remained intact. She connected a mini scanner to a tiny cable and began scanning the microchip's detailed structure—its patterns, circuitry paths, and every data layer inside. Everything appeared on a small screen at the edge of her desk.
Once the structure was fully recorded, she began printing a replica chip using a micro-printer she had modified herself years ago. The miniature version was no larger than half a fingernail. With perfect precision, Cassandra dismantled the back of her wristwatch and embedded the chip inside. She carefully soldered the fine wires back in place and sealed it with a special transparent compound that blended with the metal surface of the watch.
Once done, she exhaled quietly. No one would ever guess that the worn-out watch on her wrist now held access to one of Germania's most heavily guarded military bases.
"If they knew I had this..." she said with a slight smile, "at least I'd have a good reason to run faster."
She took a slow sip of her coffee. Warm and bitter, just like her life.
After making sure the chip was neatly embedded in the watch, Cassandra stood up from her chair. Her movements were calm yet deliberate, like someone used to living in the shadow of danger. She took off her worn jacket, hung it behind the door, and walked toward the bathroom at the back corner of the office.
The sound of running water soon followed after the door closed. Warm steam filled the room as she washed, cleansing the dust of a long journey and the weariness clinging to her skin. Her hands moved gently over her body, scrubbing away not just dirt, but memories—trying to shed a past she wished to forget.
Several minutes later, Cassandra stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a white towel. She headed to a small changing area beside a now-clean cabinet. From there, she pulled out clothing she had stored long ago, a crisp white shirt, neatly folded, slim-cut black trousers, and a pair of gleaming black heels.
She dressed slowly, like preparing for a performance no one knew was about to begin. In front of a small mirror on the wall, she adjusted her collar, combed her still-damp hair, and finally took a small bottle filled with a silvery-clear liquid.
It wasn't ordinary perfume. Cassandra had concocted it herself, a blend of synthetic compounds and rare scents, a faint aroma like morning dew mixed with hints of metal and old wood. Subtle yet sharp. A scent that could confuse the senses of a trained tracking dog.
One spray on her neck, one on her wrist.
"Time to greet the world," she whispered, a faint smile forming at the corner of her lips.
Cassandra closed her book with a single smooth motion, the soft sound of its leather cover followed by the gentle rustling of pages breaking the room's stillness. She exhaled quietly, then leaned back in her chair for a moment before reaching for the clipboard on her desk.
With sharp golden eyes, she began scanning the long list written neatly there. One by one, checkmarks were added beside each item with her steady black pen. The list contained various tasks and cases: from simple missing persons to secret surveillance missions, to high-risk infiltration operations.
No official agency gave her steady funding. The government, committees, even the military only acknowledged her license without offering real support. Cassandra lived off small donations from those she had helped, ordinary people overlooked by the legal system.
But now, only two names remained on the list of active donors. It wasn't surprising—after all these years, the world had changed rapidly, and people preferred comfort over fighting for shadowed justice.
Cassandra gave a faint smile, as if she had predicted this from the beginning. She touched a small navy-blue folder containing her savings from work, neatly tucked away in a locked drawer beneath her desk.
But it wasn't just from work…
Most of the funds supporting her life and operations now came from one major operation: the takedown of the Ghereath cartel. Once the dark shadow looming over the nation, the cartel had fallen, thanks to Cassandra's game. She had infiltrated, deceived, stolen, and sent their leaders into underground military prisons. All of it done cleanly.
And of course, she hadn't forgotten to take an "operational fee" in the form of cartel funds now redirected as her primary source of income.
Her hand paused on a single name that hadn't been crossed out.
Her eyes narrowed.
A faint, meaningful smile touched her lips.
"One left..." she whispered, standing and walking toward the window, gazing at the calm city of Germania beyond.
The name Helena Brath was still clearly written on Cassandra's task board one of the few she never erased, not because there was unfinished business, but because that name was too important to simply cross out. Helena had been an old comrade, someone who once stood beside her during some of the toughest investigations in the past. Warm, sharp, and most importantly, trustworthy. Cassandra never called anyone a friend lightly, but with Helena, it wasn't just a label.
After brewing her coffee, now perfectly warm, Cassandra sat back in her chair. A soft steam curled from the surface of her old porcelain cup that had accompanied her for years. She had just brought the cup to her lips when the doorbell chimed.
A young girl stepped inside, clearly nervous but trying her best to appear composed.
"Is this the office of Miss Cassandra von Mallearch?" she asked softly.
Cassandra lowered her cup slowly and clasped her hands under her chin atop the desk.
"Yes, this is my office. Come in," she replied in a gentle but firm tone. "Please, have a seat."
The girl obeyed, sitting on the guest chair across from Cassandra's desk. Her face looked tired, but her eyes still held hope.
"I'm Lina… Lina Vermith," she said. "I want to hire you… my sister is missing. It's been three weeks. Her name is Eliana Vermith."
From her bag, Lina pulled out a photo and several sheets detailing physical characteristics, last known outfit, and the location where she was last seen. Cassandra accepted the items with professional composure, her sharp eyes scanning each detail.
She said nothing at first. One eyebrow lifted slightly.
This wasn't just a typical missing person's case. Her instincts were already kicking in... and something inside told her this one would be complicated, and possibly dangerous.
Cassandra took the photo and documents, placing them neatly on the desk before pulling out a notepad and pen from the drawer. Her golden eyes swept over every detail with the meticulous precision of a seasoned investigator.
"Full name: Eliana Vermith," she murmured. "Age twenty-six, height one sixty-seven… dark brown hair, greenish-grey eyes…"
She looked at the girl briefly before beginning a line of questions.
"Does she have any enemies?" she asked in a flat but attentive tone.
The girl, Lina, shook her head.
"No… as far as I know, she's a kind person, rarely got into trouble."
"Where was she last seen?" Cassandra continued while jotting down notes.
"In District V… near the old medical center."
"Time?"
"Three weeks ago, Tuesday night."
"Did she say where she was going?"
"Not exactly… she just mentioned she was meeting someone who had important information."
Cassandra noted it all quickly, then looked at Lina again. "What's her job?"
"She's a writer… sometimes does deep research for her stories. Some of the topics were so strange, they made me worry."
Cassandra leaned back in her chair, staring silently at her notes for a moment.
"All right. I'll look into her whereabouts. If you discover anything new or if anyone contacts you about Eliana, tell me immediately."
She slipped Eliana's photo into her coat pocket.
"As of now, this case is officially mine."
The dim light of the office shimmered softly on the surface of her cooling coffee. The evening breeze stirred the thin curtains, and Cassandra knew, the investigation had just begun.
The girl rose and walked to the door.
She bowed politely at the doorway, head lowered in sincere gratitude before quietly stepping out and closing the door behind her. The soft click of the latch marked her departure, and silence once again filled the room.
Cassandra sat silently for a moment, her gaze fixed on a slip of paper in her hand. She traced the edge of the note with her fingertip, then picked up a pen and began rewriting the information she had just received.
"Enjoys doing research… even to the point of worrying her sister," she murmured softly.
Her sharp eyes scanned that sentence before moving down to the next line she scribbled beneath it.
"Vanished without a trace in a city covered in cameras…"
Cassandra twirled the pen between her fingers, then tapped it lightly against the desk. With practiced precision, she began listing possible scenarios on a blank sheet:
Abduction – high probability if sensitive information is involved.
Premeditated murder – no trace, no witnesses.
Voluntary disappearance – unlikely, but not impossible.
The information she sought might have been dangerous to certain parties.
She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back slightly, then added another note:
"Her investigative tendencies could have unsettled the wrong people… unsettled enough to make her disappear."
Cassandra's hand paused.
"Another possibility… maybe she never went to District V as believed."
She glanced briefly at the ceiling, then wrote the final line:
"Unknown contact – important. Find last known line of communication."
She set down her pen, took a sip of the now lukewarm coffee, and gazed out the window. Her golden eyes reflected the cold, orderly skyline of Germania a city of order, hiding layers of secrets.
This case had only just begun… and something in her instincts told her this wasn't just a missing person.
Cassandra opened one of the drawers in her desk and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. She took one and, with a swift motion, grabbed a metal lighter from the corner of the drawer, igniting it with a smooth flick.
The first curl of smoke rose slowly from the cigarette's tip as she leaned back in her chair. That first deep breath made the quiet room feel heavier, more real. She reached for the side of her desk, grabbed a round ashtray long unused, and set it in front of her.
Cassandra stared at the ceiling in silence, occasionally exhaling smoke as she let her mind turn, digesting the information she had just gathered. Time slipped by.
Eventually, the clock struck 10:00 PM.
She rose from her seat, letting the last of her cigarette burn out in the ashtray. Calmly, she slipped on the long black coat hanging behind the door. She tucked a few more cigarettes into her coat pocket, then walked toward the exit.
Her hand turned the key with a soft click. Before stepping out, she flipped the door sign from "OPEN" to "CLOSED."
The night in Germania had begun to bite, but Cassandra moved without haste, like a shadow that knew exactly where to search in the dark.
The air in District V was denser, slightly humid, and tinged with the scent of rust from the abandoned buildings. Cassandra walked along a cracked sidewalk, bathed in the dim glow of flickering streetlights. The sound of her footsteps echoed faintly between the silent structures.
After thirty minutes of walking, she arrived at an old medical center, no longer in operation, but still bearing a faded sign barely legible. Near the rusted front gate, an older man sat on a small bench, hunched over, reading a worn-out newspaper with trembling hands.
Cassandra approached him calmly.
"Excuse me, sir. I'm looking for someone… a young girl named Eliana Vermith. Have you seen her in the past few weeks?" she asked, her voice low but clear.
The man looked up, eyes settling on her for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "About three weeks ago… yes, I remember a girl like that. She was walking alone… seemed in a hurry. She went into a narrow alley, about two hundred meters north from here."
Cassandra nodded respectfully. "Thank you."
Without another word, she continued on. The streets grew quieter, the only sound was the wind weaving through the gaps in the buildings. Two hundred meters wasn't far, but to Cassandra, every step could lead to a new clue, or a new danger.
The alley soon came into view. Narrow, dark, and clearly avoided. But Cassandra, with her sharp golden eyes, didn't hesitate.
She stepped in.
Cassandra moved cautiously into the narrow alley. The stench of garbage piled in corners greeted her, accompanied by a suspicious silence. The nearby streetlamp cast only a faint glow, leaving most of the alley steeped in shadow.
Her eyes swept over every detail the graffiti-covered walls, puddles that reflected dim light, and small scattered objects. Then something caught her attention.
A pair of glasses, lying among a heap of worn-out cardboard and broken bottles. They were dirty, but not broken. With a furrowed brow, Cassandra crouched and picked them up gently.
"These glasses are intact," she murmured, more observational than surprised.
She turned the frame over, and there it was, clearly engraved: Eliana Vermith.
"Hmm... this could be evidence."
Without wasting time, Cassandra slipped on a pair of black gloves from her coat pocket, everything had to be clean, without trace. Carefully, she placed the glasses in a small evidence pouch she carried, sealing it tight.
Her eyes scanned the alley once more, looking for another sign, a trace, anything Eliana might have left behind. A strange feeling stirred in her chest. The glasses didn't seem like they had been dropped in a rush. They were too clean. Too… placed.
"Something's not right here…" she whispered, beginning to investigate deeper into the alley.
Cassandra moved slowly until she reached the end. Ahead lay a narrow, seldom-used road, silent and still. Only one or two streetlights flickered faintly, casting the place in near darkness.
Her eyes scanned the area sharp, alert. The click of her heeled shoes echoed on the quiet pavement. Not far down the road, a blanket of darkness loomed a forest, wild and silent, like a secret refusing to be revealed.
A cold wind blew, making the edge of Cassandra's coat flutter gently. Her short white hair swept back as she stared at the woods. Something was in there. Not just curiosity, something deeper. Instinct.
Without a word, she moved forward. Every step was steady, yet quiet. She left the streetlights behind, slowly merging with the shadows beneath the trees. The world outside seemed to fade away, replaced by the natural silence and the whisper of wind through branches.
Cassandra didn't know exactly what awaited her in that forest. But a detective's intuition, honed over years, was rarely wrong.
And tonight, that instinct led her into the forest.