The bedroom was quiet, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, shimmering in the sunlight that spilled through the tall windows. Behind her desk, Lory sat with one leg crossed under the other, her eyes fixed on the laptop screen.
The surveillance feed from the gallery played in sharp, full-color clarity, each marble tile, each passing shadow rendered in lifelike detail. But the halls remained empty, the air in them still.
"She didn't come today?" Lory murmured, her brows faintly furrowing.
The glass door opened with a soft click. Zhao Li Xin stepped in, his presence as composed as ever, carrying a mug of lemon tea that trailed a light citrus scent through the air. He set it gently beside her laptop.
"Maybe she's realized it's useless," he said, his tone casual but edged with quiet mocking tone.
