The agency was quiet after hours, the usual bustling energy replaced by the steady ticking of a clock on the wall. You sat at your desk, staring at the unfinished reports in front of you, but your mind was elsewhere—stuck in the cycle of doubt that had been haunting you for weeks.

“You’re still here.”

The deep, familiar voice made you jolt slightly. You turned to see Sir Nighteye standing near the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on you.

“I wanted to finish this before heading out,” you said, though even you weren’t convinced by your own excuse.

Nighteye stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “Lying is a poor habit for a hero.”