Amraha steps into the room, her voice soft yet steady.
"How is your son feeling now?"
she asks.
On the bed lies a young boy, unconscious, his face pale and still. For the past three days, he hasn't woken up, though the medicine is being given to him regularly. Beside the bed, a woman sits quietly, her expression weighed down with worry. She looks lost in thought, her face drawn, until Amraha's words pull her back. Slowly, she lifts her gaze and rises to her feet.
"He is better than before,"
the woman answers, her voice carrying both relief and sorrow. "This morning, he regained consciousness for a while. He told me his arm was hurting, but the wound on his head has healed. He took his medicine and fell back asleep."
Her reply spills out in detail, as if speaking helps her bear the weight. Amraha nods, listening with gentle patience. She is about to take her leave when the woman suddenly stops her, her tone turning grave.
"Daughter, has the police already gone to the village?"
The question is simple, yet heavy.
"No, not yet," Amraha reassures her. "They are leaving today. I told them to go with their team. The rest is their work—they'll handle it. Please don't worry." She smiles softly, trying to ease the woman's fear.
But the woman shakes her head, her eyes clouded.
"Those people are dangerous. I am certain they will retaliate. They may harm our own men there or treat them cruelly in some way…"
Amraha's expression hardens as she looks at her.
"Pray that your people remain safe, and that the police succeed in their work."
Her voice carries both calm and determination.
........
"Move fast!"
An officer shouts. Three constables rush behind the inspector, climbing into the jeep. Every man wears the police uniform, their steps hurried, their weapons ready. The engine roars to life, and the vehicle surges forward toward its destination.
In the backseat, one constable leans toward the inspector.
"Sir, we're heading straight there… but shouldn't we have sent someone first, to gather information? To see what the situation really is, whether people are actually being mistreated?"
Another constable shakes his head.
"From the data we checked online, and the limited contacts we managed to reach, all we know is that the place is sealed off. People are alive inside, but there's no clear evidence of how they're being used."
The inspector doesn't even pause.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," he says coldly.
The constables exchange uneasy glances, their faces set in silence. Each one carries thoughts he doesn't dare speak.
The inspector, meanwhile, leans back, his eyes gleaming. That place is closed off, no one in or out. All we need is to get there. And when I do, I'll take my price from the Asahi family. If wealthy men like them don't fill our pockets, then who will?
His lips curl into a smile at the thought. The driver notices the inspector's expression in the rearview mirror and smirks faintly.
After half an hour of relentless driving, the jeep finally approaches its destination.
The police jeep comes to a halt on the upper road, parked beside a low concrete barrier. From here, the ground drops nearly twelve feet below. Directly ahead lie the railway tracks, and beyond them, a small cluster of railway quarters. The path to those quarters lies on the other side, at the back of the station.
The inspector and his constables descend the steps carved into the slope, boots striking the concrete as they make their way down. They step onto the tracks and begin walking to the right. From the ground level, one side opens toward the bus stand of the station, while the other leads to the narrow road where their vehicle is parked, fenced by a broken wall.
The inspector moves slowly, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the area. He keeps walking forward, studying the ground with a calculating look. A little further ahead, the bus stand ends, and the land begins to dip lower, six or seven feet down. In the distance, a river glimmers faintly under the daylight. On its right bank, a village comes into view, enclosed by rough fences.
The inspector leads the team down the slope, toward the village. They pass through its narrow lanes, their eyes moving from house to house. Nearly two hundred and fifty homes stand here—single-storey, wooden quarters, each small and plain, yet lived in. The walls, the tools, the utensils—everything shows signs of daily life. And yet, the village is deserted. Not a single soul walks its streets.
After scouring every alley, the police regroup at the riverbank.
"Inspector, what do you think should be done?"
One constable asks cautiously. "It looks like those people cleared everyone out beforehand. How are we supposed to investigate now?"
Another constable adds, grim and uncertain,
"How long do you think they'll stay hidden? Two days, maybe? After that, they'll have to come back. Humans can't live without their needs forever. Or maybe… maybe they killed them all already."
The inspector narrows his eyes, scanning the empty homes once more.
"If three hundred people had been killed here at once, this place wouldn't look like this. There's no blood, no smell of death. Everything is in use, nothing is abandoned. No—these people were taken away, not slaughtered."
The constable frowns. "But if they're not here, then who do we question? Who do we interrogate?"
"For now,"
The inspector decides, "we leave. We'll have the government offices pull the names of every registered resident here, and find out when exactly this place was cleared. From there, we'll know how to move forward."
The team begins climbing back toward the elevated road, boots crunching on gravel.
One constable glances at the inspector from behind, unease tightening in his chest. Something feels wrong. This doesn't look like the same inspector we brought from the station. He keeps the thought to himself, silent.
Back inside the jeep, the inspector leans against his seat, eyes distant, lips curling with a thought of his own. Land without a legal owner always ends up in the government's name. And if no one has claimed it since it was cleared, then perhaps… perhaps I could become its owner myself.
"Sir, what should we do now?" one of the men asks.
Their leader, the gang's head marqy speaks with a sharp edge in his tone, his voice heavy with both anger and calculation.
"It was a clever move, disappearing the people at the right time. If the police had found them here and they had started talking, it would've been disastrous for us. But the problem is that the girl has reached the court—and the woman is with her. Either we stop the girl from reaching court, or we silence that woman forever."
Hilton, He is the best advicer of, the gang's feared head. His eyes narrow as he weighs the choices.
Not far away, Marqys right hand, crouches with three men atop the ridge. From their vantage point, binoculars pressed to their eyes, they study every movement below. It is crucial—they must track the police's every step. If the area is sealed off, they need to know before it's too late.
"But how do we stop that girl from reaching court?"
one of Marqy's men asks, lowering his binoculars for a moment.
The moment she steps out of her house, we'll see where she goes. And we'll see where our hands close around her throat."
Marqy doesn't hesitate. And said
"Send two of the men to replace the watchers here. We'll take care of this ourselves."
With a quick nod, the four of them begin climbing down the rocky ridge, their steps sure and swift, the hunt already alive in their eyes.
........
"Good evening, ma'am! How are you?"
Inspector William's voice carries a false calm as he holds the phone to his ear. He listens intently, then continues,
"Yes, ma'am, we visited the entire site today. Truly, no one lives there anymore. But don't worry—I've requested the government offices to send me the list of residents. The moment I know something, I'll inform you.
"Yes, ma'am, I'll handle it carefully. We'll gather all the evidence needed."
The call ends. William exhales deeply, his hand trembling slightly as he sets the phone down. Sweat beads his forehead, and his face has lost its color. Clearly, whatever was said on the other end has rattled him.
He gulps down water quickly, then raises his voice, almost shouting.
"Constable!"
A young constable rushes into the office, startled.
"Y-yes, sir?"
"Where are the files I asked for?" William snaps, his eyes blazing with frustration.
"S-sir, they haven't arrived yet…" the constable answers, his voice low, almost apologetic.
"Then go and bring them yourself!"
William roars, slamming his fist on the table. "Those files are critical for us!"
The constable nods frantically and runs out, while William wipes his forehead, his jaw tight, his eyes restless with something deeper than just anger.
......
"Hi Amraha! How are you?"
Amraha is lying on the swing placed on the left side of her room when, without knocking, a girl suddenly walks in. With a bright smile, she spreads her arms wide and hugs
Amraha tightly. Her face carries a smile so deep, it feels brighter than joy itself.
In that instant, Amraha forgets her worries, feeling just as happy as the girl holding her.
"You're here! I can't believe it… how? I mean… hahaha, I'm so happy!" Amraha asks, her voice full of excitement.
Happiness seems to spill from both of their faces, overflowing like sunlight.