-Central Metropolitan Police Station- In the afternoon, August 7, 20XXReporter- "According to the police, there is no footage of the killer who killed Politician Kiley inside a private museum. She was visiting her old friend, Mr. Bradley who is the owner of the famous painting " The Essence of Flower Blooming". She has been trying to make a deal with her best friend, but her best friend didn't seem to be pleased with her offer... "In a dimly lit office room, the air became heavy with tension. The smell of cigarettes is everywhere, its smoke gathering in the corner of the walls, around the Air compressor. A row of stern-faced police officers, their suits crisply tailored and badges glinting in the soft overhead light sits around a long, wooden conference table. The room is small but soundproof, having thousands of secrets of the City of least criminal activity that will never be found by the public.Each officer leans forward sternly, their foreheads creasing with worry, huddling i
Laughter, effervescent and infectious, bubbles up from the souls of the yacht's occupants, infusing the air with a palpable joy. It swirls like an invisible dance, entwined with the sea breeze that gently caresses their faces. The night has already bestowed upon them a gift of radiant weather, and their hearts, already flashing with contentment, now bask in the collective glow of camaraderie.In this enchanting moment, the exquisite wine they have procured from the auction is not merely a beverage, but a conduit for mirth and connection. It is as if the very notes of their laughter have been poured into each glass, rendering the wine a sweet elixir that can warm the coldest of hearts and light up even the most splendid of nights." You got a loyal dog, Mr. Bradley! The case is announced as a cold within two weeks. Without any further investigation!" The corner of the man's lips raises with satisfaction, as he remarks. The devious grin in the corner of the lips highlights the mood of
" You know I don't like Flower tea!" A disappointed groan escapes from his best friend who throws himself on the couch. After getting a message from Asher, he hurried to come here with a package of imported beer and Two servings of chicken fries and pizza. Since Asher personally called him here, he can't let the chance go to sleep.Now, he is grunting with disappointment because Asher offered him fermented Flower tea instead of letting him have a can of beer." Solve my problems first. Then I will let you drink in my apartment. So get your ass off my couch and excuse yourself out!"Sitting on the couch, Asher takes a restful breath with a glass of iced water. His fingers delicately handle the printed message that his client urgently needs to be translated to Marco, his best friend who is crashing the couch." Translate the message. It's an emergency!" Throwing the file, Asher smacks on his head.Marco Dexter is a freelance Interpreter and a linguist who is an expert in ancient langua
" Damn! Man! This house is undoubtedly interesting. She has all types of ancient collections." The moment they step into the house, their breath catches in their throat. The interior is a symphony of design and craftsmanship leaving them utterly speechless. The warm, honey-toned hardwood floors beckon them to explore further, their glossy surface reflecting the sunlight that is peeking into the room with the frosted glass window. Every corner of the house has unique furniture, antique products, lots of fossils, and rare gemstones. As if the house is a museum of ancient arts and crafts. " My mother collected them. She has more in her basement. I don't know how she got all of them. But it proves that she has worked hard to reach this point. But one thing I regret not to know about. How did she end up in politics? Why did she choose politics as her career?"Her voice trembles and cracks as she speaks about her mother, and her hand reaches for a cherished photo of the two of them, a p
" What did you see in that Notebook?" Marco questioned, glimpsing Asher open the laptop that belonged to the late Politician Kiley. Rather than answering, he keeps typing and clicking until his eyebrows knit with a weighty utterance." Marco! Tell me what are the number that she mentioned at the last!" Spreading out the notebook that he is holding, Marco responds immediately... " cloud nine, twenty-one century, One Dollar Alpha 6!"" 21001$ALPHA6"" You missed some... What about the cloud -"The rhythm of verifying the password gets everyone's attention. Marco's eyebrows lift, and so does Laila who has zero presumption of how he entered the password. When they inspected the notebook, there was nothing but some kid's poetry that Laila wrote when she was a kid. " How did you do that? Mr. Asher!"He grins, thinking about the notebook.For half an hour, He was unable to find a single inkling or anything related to those words. Although it felt like it was a map of some underground cell
Next Day...The SI Medical Hospital and College..." Why not try to move on and find someone decent? Look at Dr. Smith. He treats you so well. Everyone knows that he likes you. Isn't it better than waiting for a scumbag to like you?"Hearing from her best friend, Stefanie Troy releases an exhausted sigh. Being the fiancee of Derek who has been breaking her heart, she finds it hard to keep herself calm. She can't deny those words from her best friend. She has been loving him despite his all kinds of wildness and wrongdoings. Love is blind and she is turning herself into a blind person. Not because of love. He is her habit. So, moving on is hard for her." Let's not talk about him now. Shall we have dinner together tonight? I don't have night shift!"Her fingers trace the worn edges of the apron pocket, eyes searching for the right moment to broach the question with her lifelong confidante, Dr. Eleanor, renowned for her expertise as a gynecologist at the esteemed SI Medical Hospital."
The guard, clad in a sleek black suit, enters the spacious office of Politician Troy. The room is adorned with modern furniture and the scent of lavender air freshener. Sunlight streams through the large, glass windows, casting warm, mellow hues on the walls of Frame of his photos which hold the history of the years of his political journey. The desk, where Politician Troy is sitting, rapping his fingers and meticulously reviewing trust fund files, is one of the best art of world-famous woodwork artisans. It bears the weight of the history of his significant path and a gleaming nameplate that read "Troy Stanley"The guard, respectful and composed, approaches Troy with a deep bow. His black-gloved hands folded behind his body, holding a small device. " President Troy! The Device, we found next to Politician Kiley's dead body has started ringing!"" This wristwatch size device? I thought it was her some stupid time-passing toy!" Politician Troy's eyes narrow as he glances at the wrist
The rhythmic staccato of keys being pressed on the keyboard echoes through the bustling underground basement. It is a hive of activity, where the air seems charged with the weight of hidden knowledge. Asher, the Crazy Devil Prosecutor who smells the crime out like a mad dog, sits at the heart of it all, surrounded by the hum of electronic machinery and the glow of numerous computer screens, and reflects on his eyewear. As his fingers touch across the keyboard, a swarm of information unfolds before his eyes. The digital realm lays bare, revealing not only the shadowy dealings of the criminal underworld but also the concealed connections of celebrities entangled in illegal activities. It's an entire house of vivid mosaic of secrets, each piece contributing to the larger, complex puzzle.Amidst this flood of data, Asher, the lawless prosecutor, downloads everything. His eyewear reflects the glow of the screens, but his eyes get sharper as he discovers the information about his father, w