"Mattress."
The old man answered without thinking, "I don't have that thing here."
As he spoke, he prepared to retreat.
But he hadn't taken two steps when the old sound of the rolling door suddenly came from behind.
His face instantly grew solemn, and he grabbed the gun beside him, pointing it at the door, prepared to blow the head off anyone who dared to come in.
Instead, a silver flash appeared before him.
Two fingers, bone-white and distinct, holding a badge, casually waved in front of him.
The English words engraved on the silver slant were faintly visible.
The old man stared at the badge closely, a look of disbelief gradually mixing with terror, until his entire body began to tremble.
"Can you put the gun down?"
The young man's voice was low and slightly hoarse, very distinctive.
But to the old man's ears, it made his spine stiffen and his scalp tingle.
