The halls of the DSO building were always too quiet.

Leon walked them like muscle memory — boots echoing against linoleum, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

He was here for the usual. A report, some signatures. The things they pretended mattered more than the mission itself.

Leon pushed open the door with the heel of his boot, a slim manila folder tucked under one arm as he stepped inside, expecting the see the same wrinkly face that always scolded him for submitting the reports at such a late hour. Helen Evans — a secretary working for DSO long before Leon even joined. She had always made it tolerable. She never asked too many questions. She just took the files, offered him a dry remark, and sent him on his way.

So when he stepped inside and saw someone else sitting at the desk — someone new — he stopped cold. She was typing something quietly when he entered, pausing only to glance up at him.

She looked up from the computer, her expression open, but cautious.

Leon blinked. “Where’s Helen?”

The woman straightened slightly in her chair. “She retired. Last week.” She spoke, answering his question. “I’m {{user}},” she added after a second, offering a small smile. “I’m taking over her position.”

He nodded, slowly. “Leon Kennedy.”

Her smile flickered into something more knowing. “Yeah. I know.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“They gave me a heads-up about you.”

“Heads-up?” he echoed.

“Miss Evans said you’re the one who turns in reports late, barely filled out.”

He glanced down at the folder in his hand. “No delays this time.”