"Did Mr. Roan say anything about where he was headed this time?" Simon inquired, casually now that everyone was settled in.
Julian remained silent, his gaze drifting around the house, piecing together the puzzle.
"No," Mrs. Roan replied curtly. Earlier, she'd been tense, but now she carefully picked her words. If she didn't, who knows what might unfold?
Even the gods couldn't predict the outcome.
"Does he usually mention these trips before he leaves for work? Or did he just forget this time?"
"He rarely updates me about his work, let alone where he goes for it."
"Hmm… how much do you know about his job?"
"Not much, just the surface level."
Simon caught onto her hesitance with ease.
"How has he been lately? Notice any strange or suspicious behavior? Anything out of character?" Simon slowly tightened his grip on the situation.
"He was… I'll say it this way: it wasn't suspicious, just coming home late and a bit tipsy. You get what I mean, right? It's been like that only for the last three weeks. He was fine three days ago when he left for a trip."
Simon and Julian shared a knowing glance, nodding subtly. Everything was falling into place.
"We also saw that you've been married for five years, but still no kids. What's up with that?"
"Well, there have been some issues, but we've been trying. I mean, who doesn't want the 'love fruit'? But I'd prefer not to delve into sensitive topics, if you don't mind."
"Yeah… I apologize for that." Simon nodded, somewhat embarrassed.
"Mrs. Roan," Julian interjected, shifting in his seat, "sorry, but could you point me to the washroom?" He looked sheepish. "Why is my stomach acting up today?"
"Yeah, go to the hall, take a right down the hallway, it's the second-to-last door."
"Thanks!" Julian stood up quickly, excusing himself. Mrs. Roan's eyes trailed after him until he disappeared from the parlor.
Now, only the two of them remained.
Stealing a glance from the yard, Simon leaned in and asked again, "So, how's everything going between you and Mr. Roan?"
Mrs. Roan arched an eyebrow, her voice laced with suspicion. "Why on earth are you asking that? It's so obvious! We're married, aren't we?"
"Yes… you are," Simon's voice deepened. "But there's more to it, isn't there? Mr. Roan is in his late forties, while you're still quite young. I'm not emphasizing the age gap—after all, love is blind, right? But the questions you just answered indicate something's off. You're either hiding something from us or even from your hus—"
"Think before you speak," Mrs. Roan interjected sharply, cutting him off. "Even if this is part of your assignment, don't you think you're overstepping?"
Simon remained unfazed, replying coolly, "This is part of our job." He saw through the layers of deception that Mrs. Roan was trying to project.
"But it's alright. If you don't want to answer, it'll all be documented regardless."
"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Her voice trembled, her eyes fierce as they locked onto Simon's.
"No need for that; our job doesn't provide that kind of service. We simply record what we hear, only the truth."
He didn't even flinch.
Mrs. Roan fell silent for a moment, contemplating if she had been naive at that moment. What had she truly thought of the person across from her, and what he really was?
In this world, there's no place for the foolish. A small mistake can escalate into a monumental problem, especially in the presence of the wrong person.
Julian casually pushed the door open and stepped into the washroom. Just as he had anticipated, it was neat and tidy. Standing there, he took a moment to cool off while letting his gaze wander about.
A trash bin held a few receipts and used tissues; towels hung in place, and bottles of handwash and soap lined the counter. What else was there to see? Shh…
He shook off that pointless thought and zipped up.
Silently, he exited the washroom, ensuring the door clicked shut behind him. In the hallway, to his right, two more doors were calling to him.
The piece was here.
He approached the first door and gently pushed it open. No lock this time. Inside, the room was modest, but the clock was ticking. He had to be quick.
His eyes first landed on the wardrobe, the most obvious place of someone's buried past. After rummaging for a minute, he found nothing of value, just women's clothing.
Turning to the table, he noticed neatly lined-up books. He opened each drawer one by one, but to no avail.
He picked one up. "Twilight by Stephanie Meyer." Flipping through a few pages, he realized it was just more romance, nothing captivating. Some dialogues were underlined, but he didn't have the time to delve deeper, so he returned it to its spot.
Scanning a few others, he found the same old Romeo and Juliet clichés alongside dusty history tomes.
But something was still clicking him.
He glanced around, and his eyes landed on the makeup dressing table. Not expecting much, he opened a couple of drawers, discovering nail polish and typical women's items.
Wait, what's this?
He picked up a small bottle, contemplating.
"Sleeping pills? Looks like Mrs. Roan's been having a rough time," he murmured to himself, opening the next drawer only to find another bottle marked for stress relief.
"She really is."
Realizing he was wasting precious time he didn't have, he returned everything to its rightful place and quietly exited the room, leaving the door softly closed behind him.
He glanced down the hallway once more, his hand reaching for the doorknob of what was supposed to be Mr. Roan's room. Just then, the doorbell rang.
"Time's up," Mrs. Roan announced, a wave of relief washing over her. "I'm done with this."
Simon gave a slight nod, agreeing, hoping Julian had found something while he was buying them time.
Mrs. Roan slowly rose, the tension leaving her body now that their conversation was over, and headed towards the door, towards the waiting person.
As they both exited the parlor, Mrs. Roan commented, "Your junior is sure taking his sweet time."
"...yeah," Simon replied faintly from behind.
Reaching the hall, they saw Julian approaching, his eyes scanning the walls. When Julian met them, he offered a sheepish smile, and without a word, the three moved towards the exit.
At the door, Mrs. Roan swung it wide, revealing a woman in a chic dress, a bit over thirty.
"Wha—" the woman started to speak, but the words caught in her throat as she noticed the two figures behind her friend.
Simon and Julian quickly made their exit. Their job here was done, and it was best if as few people knew about it as possible.
Mrs. Roan glanced at her friend, silently thanking her for arriving so quickly, while providing a way out for Julian and Simon.
Simon and Julian stepped outside the house, both eager to leave this place as soon as possible, but Julian's legs hesitated.
Simon halted, puzzled by the sudden pause. Turning his head, Julian said politely, "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Roan. I hope we meet again."
"...Yeah..." Mrs. Roan replied, her smile a bit awkward.
As they finally walked away, Mrs. Roan's friend, trying hard to make sense of the whole thing, asked, "Who were those guys?"
She didn't answer right away, watching the two of them until they disappeared through the metal gate.
"Get inside first," Mrs. Roan said, turning around towards the door, her last glance at Simon icy.
"What happened?" Julian asked casually. "Did she catch onto you or something? Well, she was mighty fine—"
"No, it's nothing like that," Simon replied calmly, as if stating a simple fact, without a hint of emotion.
Then Julian remembered again. He was with Simon, but he couldn't help but wonder, then what was that all about, my friend?
"Anyway, did you find anything?" Simon asked, brushing aside the pointless thoughts.
"Nah. The whole place was clean. Though I did pick up a vibe of a strained relationship in Mrs. Roan's room, but that's not for us to worry about, I guess. The Mister's room wasn't any better. Just documents and stuff. His laptop was there, but it was locked down tight."
"Maybe if Alex were here, he could've cracked it open or something."
"No trace of any tablets or powder." Julian opened the car door, his face showing his frustration. "Was all of this just hitting a wall?"
After both adjusted themselves, Simon pressed the accelerator and drove towards their next destination, but where?
Both had thought before entering that house that they'd find something—anything which would help them open the next door of mystery. But now they don't even know the location of the door, much less the key itself.
"Should I try calling his office?" Julian asked, though both knew they'd get nothing, but they had to, just for internal satisfaction.
Simon didn't seem to care too much, only answering with a small, "Yeah."
Julian took out his phone from his pocket and searched for the name he had saved earlier.
After two rings, a reply came back, "Hello, this is V-Two Brothers Finance, what can I help you with?"
"Yeah, can I talk with Steven Roan?" Julian replied with a steady tone, getting straight to the point.
"Okay, but before that, can I ask what business you have with Mr. Roan?"
"This is a personal matter; you don't need to know. Just connect me with Steven." Julian knew that this would leave bad feedback on him, but who cares? Still better than wasting his breath and time."
"Okay, wait for a minute."
Julian waited.
With nothing else to occupy his mind, he observed the streets. Same as ever, he thought.
Cars, motorbikes, school buses. What was he even doing?
Honestly, Julian had thought before getting into this matter.
Even if this was a personal matter with Paul mainly, one way or another, everything later connects with the High Table.
Upon seeing Steven purchase tablets, he decided he would attempt to crack some layers first. When word later got out, his share of the effort would be evident, but fate was not on his side this time.
"Hello, sir? Are you still there?"
"Yeah," Julian responded quickly, setting aside his thoughts for the moment.
"I'm sorry to inform you, sir, that Mr. Roan has taken a week's leave. However, if this is truly urgent, you can speak with another—"
"No, leave it. Do you know where he went, or anything about where he might go?" Julian inquired one last time.
"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Roan didn't mention anything about that, but—"
"Yeah, thanks." Julian ended the call, as the car stopped at a green light.
"Nothing," Julian said, his tone dejected.
As they waited for the green light, Julian's gaze was again drawn to the vehicles. He looked up and saw the numbers in red. Above was—
"How about we—"