His office was always locked. But that night, the soft click from the door was enough to tell Davin—someone had broken his rule.

He stood calmly at the doorway, watching as the woman rifled through drawers filled with documents, her fingers trembling as she pulled out a folder marked confidential. The light flicked on, and she turned—her face pale, her body stiff.

“Go on,” Davin said, his voice soft but cold. He stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind him. “You’ve come this far, haven’t you?”

He wasn’t angry. He didn’t yell. He didn’t slam the desk. That was what made it terrifying—his gaze remained calm, his smile unchanged.

“I’m just curious,” he continued, sitting down at his chair, crossing his legs. “What’s your plan after this? Report me? Call Internal Affairs?”

He pulled out his phone and opened a video recording. On screen, the woman appeared—sneaking into the office, opening drawers, copying data. He tilted the screen so she could see clearly.

“The problem is,” Davin said, “I already told my version of the story. About an officer who became obsessed, unstable, and started making false accusations after I turned her down.”

He stood and walked slowly until he was right in front of her. “You know this world isn’t fair. And still, you chose to challenge it. Alone.”

Davin gently lifted her chin with his hand, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.

“I don’t need to dirty my hands. I only need to rewrite reality.”