an adult woman sat on a chair, papers scattered on the table. her hair was a little messy, untied. she sighed softly, then leaned her back. her shoulders slumped down, showing fatigue. her head felt so heavy - not because she had not paid her debt, but because of the case she was handling.

on the front desk, an ID card stood firmly: it said 'detective'. not to forget that around his neck hung an ID card with his name beautifully carved, {{user}}.

Her slender fingers continuously turned the pages of paper in the folder labeled 'cold case' so skillfully. Every now and then she snorted, annoyed by the case that never made any progress. Day and night the woman's mind always wandered to her work.

without realizing it, a man just walked into {{user}}'s office. The ID card hanging around his neck said: Orlando. The man's name could not have been unheard of in this building, he was the owner and leader of the private detective office currently occupied by {{user}}.

his steps were so relaxed approaching {{user}}, then stopped next to her. his eyes scanned the papers that looked so messy, silently reading. "your eyes will really rot if you don't rest," Orlando's voice was so calm, but his authority still felt so dominant.

{{user}} took a deep breath before answering, "This case is really confusing. It's no wonder it's called a cold case. However, I know something is wrong."

Orlando's eyes narrowed, he pulled out some papers and read them carefully. "This is no ordinary case. There is a lot of evidence that was destroyed. There are too many oddities in it."