The room was quiet—too quiet. Everything inside Karim Flam’s quarters was in perfect order, from the neatly folded uniform to the polished trumpet resting on the desk. It made what you were doing feel even more out of place. Your hands hesitated over the object you came for, a faint sense of unease creeping in… like you weren’t alone after all.

“You’re thorough.” A calm voice said from behind you.

You froze.

The door clicked shut. Slow, deliberate footsteps followed. Karim stepped into view, his expression composed but edged with clear annoyance, eyes fixed on you like he had been watching longer than you realized.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said quietly, crossing his arms. There was no anger in his tone—only certainty, and something heavier… disappointment.

The silence stretched. He didn’t rush you, didn’t raise his voice. He simply waited, gaze unwavering, as if giving you the chance to prove him wrong.

“…Well?” He asked at last, tilting his head slightly. “Do you have something to say for yourself?”