After piecing together the details from the old woman, Elil set out toward the crime scene.
Once there, he slid his notebook back into the inside pocket of his leather coat.He walked toward a small wooden stall, its surface still smudged with recent handprints and fresh dust. They hadn't been gone long.
He approached the nearest vendor.
— "Did a group of young men pass by here recently?"
The vendor looked him up and down. Elil gave a precise description, echoing what the old woman had told him.
The man pointed north.
— "Past the school. Toward the rice fields."
Elil nodded silently, picked up his small satchel, and marched forward.
Soon, nestled near the edge of the fields, he spotted a tiny hut—weathered, hunched, hiding something.They know I'm coming, he thought. He could tell by the silence. The unnatural stillness.
Without hesitation, Elil approached and slammed his boot into the hut's door, then took two steps back.
A figure appeared instantly—caught off guard.
With zero emotion, Elil hurled his bag at the man's face. The attacker staggered.Elil lunged forward, planting a brutal punch into his jaw.
Before the man even hit the ground, four others emerged from the shadows behind him.
Elil narrowed his eyes. He took a few steps back.
Two of them rushed him simultaneously.
He planted his weight onto his left foot, pivoted fast, and kicked one square in the ribs with the right.The other reached him—Elil ducked, twisted, and delivered a sharp knee to the gut. The man crumpled.
Now only two remained.
One dropped to the ground—trembling, paralyzed by fear.The other turned and fled into the fields.
Elil approached the one who had collapsed.
— "Go," he said coldly. "No interrogation today."
He turned and walked away, ignoring the pathetic whimpering behind him.
Back at the old woman's home, he didn't say a word.He simply dropped the investigation file at her feet.
A cloud passed over the sun.Silence.