"My lord, there hasn't been any news from young master Kafrik. It seems he has disappeared," said the head butler of the Tramplin family.
In front of him sat Ravan Tramplin on his throne, his face dark with irritation.
Two days had passed, yet there was still no news about the mission.
The butler stood nervously and continued.
"There has been no word on whether Number 9862 and young master Kafrik managed to kill that cripple."
"Even our spies were caught by the dean just yesterday. We have no new information."
Ravan leaned back, his eyes cold and sharp.
He clicked his tongue again and again, the sound echoing through the hall.
His patience was wearing thin.
The silence in the room grew heavier as the butler waited for his next command.
There was complete silence in the hall.
Neither the butler nor Ravan spoke.
Ravan sat with a deep frown, lost in thought, but no clear answer came to his mind.
