Chapter 5: The Locked Office

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the hallway of PRASASTI’s administrative wing. Julia paused in front of her father’s office door, its nameplate gleaming under the fading light: Dr. Adam Raufal, Senior Researcher.

Her heart raced as she tried the handle. Locked. Of course, it was. But Julia wasn’t about to turn back now.

She glanced around to make sure the corridor was empty before pulling out a small lock-picking kit—a skill she had picked up during her teenage rebellion phase, much to her father’s dismay.

The click of the lock disengaging sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins. Julia slipped inside and closed the door softly behind her.

The office was a time capsule of her father’s life: neatly stacked papers, a framed photo of the two of them from years ago, and a wall of bookshelves filled with academic texts. But Julia wasn’t here to reminisce. She needed answers.

She began rifling through the desk drawers, her fingers brushing against notebooks and files. Most of it seemed ordinary—research papers, funding proposals—but something about the bottom drawer caught her eye. It was locked, too, and unlike the door, this one had a digital keypad.

Julia frowned. Her father had never been one for excessive security. Why would he need this?

Her mind raced back to the journal entry she had read earlier that night. The date of her mother’s death—was that the code? She punched in the numbers.

The drawer clicked open.

Inside was a slim, polished metal case, its surface engraved with the word Dunnorage. Julia’s breath caught as she lifted it out, the weight heavier than she expected. She set it on the desk and flipped it open, revealing a sleek device with wires coiled neatly around it.

“What the hell is this?” she murmured.

Alongside the device was a small stack of documents and a photo of her father with a man she didn’t recognize—a man with sharp features and intense eyes. Scrawled on the back of the photo was a name: Dr. Fendi.

Julia’s mind raced. This was the friend her father had mentioned in the video. But who was he really? And why had her father been so cautious about him?

She flipped through the documents, her unease growing with every word. Schematics of neural implants, reports on cognitive manipulation, and a single page stamped with the logo of Kentofes.

The final piece was a handwritten note in her father’s unmistakable script:

Fendi is brilliant, but Sarah is the conscience. Without her, I fear what Kentofes might achieve. If you find this, Julia, trust your instincts. Find Maria. She’ll understand.

Julia leaned back in the chair, her mind spinning. Maria? Who was Maria? And why did her father think she could help?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway. She quickly shoved the documents back into the case, grabbed the photo, and closed the drawer.

The footsteps stopped outside the door. Julia held her breath, her pulse hammering in her ears.

A moment passed, then two, before the footsteps receded down the hallway.

Julia exhaled shakily and clutched the case to her chest. Whatever her father had been involved in, it was bigger than she had imagined.

And she was now in the middle of it.