In Charles's study, the golden sunlight spilled through the tall windows. The room was quiet—too quiet.
Seraphina stepped inside, her boots clicking against the polished floor. Her eyes darted around.
"Hmm… Charles isn't here," she murmured.
Just then, the elderly butler passed by the door.
"Where's Charles?" she asked, her tone casual.
"He went out for work, my lady," the butler replied politely.
"I see." Seraphina waited for him to leave before stepping fully into the room.
She moved to the desk first, her fingers tracing the edge of the wood. Papers were neatly stacked, a few maps and old documents left open. She scanned them with interest but didn't stop there.
Drawn by curiosity, she crossed to the tall wooden closet and opened it quietly. Coats. Uniforms. Nothing unusual.
She closed it again and turned back to the desk, eyes narrowing. Then, slowly, she slid open the top drawer. Inside were files, crisp and official.
But something about the arrangement felt off.
