Iyaan shot him a sharp glare before kneeling beside the couch. He reached out and shook Johan’s shoulder gently. “Sir, come on. Tell me what the case is,” he urged, his voice filled with impatience.

Johan stirred, a soft yawn escaping him as he slowly turned onto his back, blinking sleepily at Iyaan. “Seriously. You’re early. I thought you’d come tomorrow,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Come on, sir. Tell me. This is important, and you know it,” Iyaan pressed, desperation creeping into his tone.

“Fine, fine,” Johan relented with a wave of his hand. He sat up, the blanket slipping down to reveal his chiseled torso. His abs were well-defined, and his skin gleamed slightly in the dim light. The blanket still covered him from the waist down, but his black formal pants were now visible, along with his bare feet resting on the floor.

He glanced over at Izwan, raising an eyebrow. “But why are you here?”

“For the tea, sir,” Izwan replied nonchalantly, his face a picture of innocence. He wasn’t even trying to hide his interest in the unfolding situation.

Johan scoffed, shaking his head at Izwan’s blatant honesty. He then turned his attention back to Iyaan, his expression growing serious.

“We got a report of a missing girl,” Johan began, his voice steady as he got up from the couch. He walked over to his desk, his bare feet making soft thuds against the floor. Iyaan and Izwan followed him, the tension in the room thickening. Johan’s desk was cluttered with files, papers scattered across its surface. He sifted through them, his fingers deftly flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

“Like I told you on the phone, she was visiting Nur for her treatment. And she went missing right after she was healed,” Johan explained as he pulled out a file and flipped through it.

Minutes ticked by, the silence only broken by the sound of pages turning. Finally, Johan tossed the file towards Iyaan, who caught it effortlessly. The weight of the situation was beginning to settle on Iyaan’s shoulders, but he remained composed, flipping through the pages with practiced ease.

“This case isn’t highlighted, Iyaan. What I’m saying is, I got a hand on this just for you,” Johan continued, his tone now more serious. “You said you wanted to catch her in the act. After scrutinizing and gathering information, keeping an eye on her for the past five years, I finally got this small detail out. So the rest is up to you. Don’t make it news. No one in the force should know about this case—” Johan paused, casting a glance at Izwan, who was listening intently. “Except for this one, I guess. Since he’s already here…”

Iyaan didn’t bother responding to Izwan’s presence. His eyes scanned the file’s contents, though there wasn’t much there. What Johan had mentioned over the phone was practically all that was written in the file. Yet, it was enough—enough to open an investigation, enough to take action.

Satisfied, Iyaan nodded at Johan and turned on his heel, ready to leave the room. However, Izwan wasn’t done.

“You have no choice but to agree I’ll be joining you,” Izwan declared, falling in step beside Iyaan.

Iyaan muttered something under his breath, clearly annoyed, before shooting Izwan a sidelong glare. “Stay on the sidelines,” he ordered, his voice firm.

Without waiting for a response, Iyaan strode out of the room, leaving Izwan behind. He made his way out of the building, his mind already racing ahead to the next steps. Once outside, he slipped into his car, the cool leather of the seat familiar beneath him. With a turn of the key, the engine roared to life, and Iyaan drove off into the night, the streetlights blurring past as he headed home.

***

The next morning, Iyaan was jolted awake by the blaring sound of his alarm. He groaned in irritation, fumbling to turn it off. His head throbbed slightly, a dull reminder of the late-night meeting. He sat up in bed, blinking away the remnants of sleep as he surveyed his room. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor, and his phone lay facedown, likely where it had fallen after he had collapsed into bed.

With a weary sigh, Iyaan pushed himself out of bed. His hair was disheveled, and he was still dressed in the plain, thin-sleeved shirt and trousers he had worn the previous night. He trudged into the bathroom, the cool tiles underfoot sending a brief shiver up his spine.

Half an hour later, Iyaan emerged, refreshed and dressed in a sleek black bathrobe. He moved to his wardrobe, selecting a fresh three-piece suit, identical to the one he had worn the night before. The crisp white shirt, black blazer, and matching pants were a stark contrast to his earlier disheveled state. He returned to the bathroom to get ready, and soon he stood in front of the mirror, carefully styling his hair, making sure not a single strand was out of place. The reflection that stared back at him was one of a man ready to face the world, polished and composed, hiding any trace of fatigue or stress.

With a final glance at the mirror, Iyaan left his house, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement as he walked to his car. The drive to the station was uneventful, the city just beginning to wake up, the streets gradually filling with the hum of morning traffic. He parked his car in the lot, stepping out with the same composed demeanor that he wore like armor.

As he entered the building, the usual routine played out—some officers bowed in respect, others offered sharp salutes, their eyes following him as he walked. But Iyaan, as always, didn’t acknowledge them. His gaze remained straight ahead, his expression unreadable, a man focused solely on the task at hand.

When he reached his desk on the second floor, the atmosphere was noticeably different. There was an unusual buzz of activity, a commotion among the officers that he immediately picked up on. But he didn’t bother asking about it. Instead, he sat down in his swiveling black chair, the leather creaking slightly as he leaned back and began turning on his laptop.

Izwan’s head popped up from behind the divider on the desk lines, his face appearing right at the edge. “Some reporters are coming to interview us,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and mild excitement.

Iyaan simply nodded, his attention already shifting back to his screen as the laptop booted up. He wasn’t particularly interested in the commotion, nor did he care much for the idea of being interviewed. His mind was preoccupied with the case Johan had handed him, the details still fresh in his mind.

But Izwan wasn’t done. He watched Iyaan work for a moment, his eyes flicking between the screen and his colleague before he continued speaking, his tone now more deliberate. “The senior reporter is coming, apparently. Someone called Tenuk. Tenuk Megat.”

The name hit Iyaan like a bolt of lightning. His hand, mid-motion as it reached for his coffee, froze for a split second before it jerked, knocking the cup over. Hot coffee spilled across the desk, the dark liquid spreading quickly and scalding his hand.

“What?” Iyaan’s voice was sharp, his eyes wide with shock as he looked up at Izwan, the burning sensation in his hand momentarily forgotten.

*1259 words*