Daylight filtered in through the high windows, glancing off the decorative sconces and rippling faint reflections across the marble.
By the time he sank onto the couch, his expression was unreadable, serene, almost, but too still to be natural.
Not long after, Liang Chen stepped in, face taut with restrained frustration, a slim file held in his hand.
"Master Shen," he said, voice low and respectful. "The special team tried recovering the corrupted files, but it seems impossible. It's as if the data was not only corrupted but laced with some kind of virus. Everything tied to Miss Yueyao, her image, her vitals, the surveillance feed from that wing on the day of the incident, even the internal clearance logs, it's all gone. We are not finding anything traceable. It's like we are searching for something that never existed in the first place."
