It is no secret that the road of mediocrity is often a rocky one, and the pursuit of a mundane existence can be trying. But delve deeper into the lives of those around you, whether they are of great wealth or humble means, and you will find that contentment eludes them all. Envy and ingratitude seem to be the guiding forces of their existence, leaving them forever chasing after what they do not possess. Yet, amidst this sea of discontent, there is one man who stands out as a beacon of hope, a reminder that sometimes it is better to be spared the struggles of those around us.

  It was a bitter winter evening, the kind that chills one to the bone and turns breath to steam. Amidst the swirling snow and empty streets, a sorry figure huddled on a patch of frozen earth, his naked body exposed to the elements. Trash and discarded cans littered the ground around him, and passersby sneered and jeered, branding him a drunk and pervert. Some even stopped to offer a prayer, shaking their heads at the cruelty of a world that allows a man to sleep rough in such a manner. Yet, as they hurried on their way, they couldn't help but wonder how many more like him are out there, struggling to find shelter and warmth on the cold, unforgiving streets.

  For hours, the man slept undisturbed by the bustle of the city. Yet, as the night drew on, a familiar face passed by his makeshift bed. James was a man of middle age, his back bent with the weight of the years, but his eyes were still sharp and curious. He paused for a moment, recalling his own youthful days of adventure and wilderness, and something about the sleeping man stirred his compassion. He couldn't bear the thought leaving him there, alone and vulnerable in his current state, and so he made the decision to approach and offer a helping hand. For James knew that sometimes, in this cruel world, it takes but a single act of kindness to turn a life around.

  James approached the sleeping man with a gentle voice, offering to take him home. But there was no response, and so James continued to speak, trying to coax him awake. "Come on, son," he said. "We only live once, right?" As he drew closer, James froze in shock at what he saw. The man's face was a bloody mess, marked with bruises and scars, as if he had been in a brutal fight or subjected to torture. James couldn't believe his eyes, and for a moment he was paralyzed with fear and revulsion. But he was a good man, and he knew he couldn't leave the homeless man there to suffer. So he gathered his wits and began to weigh his options. Should he call the police or simply go home as if he had seen nothing? In the end, his conscience won out, and he knew he had to do what he could to help, even if it was only a small gesture.

  James knew he couldn't handle the situation on his own, not with the alcohol clouding his judgement. And so, he spotted a group of teenagers and ran towards them, screaming for help. At first, the teens were wary, unsure of what this older man wanted from them. But when James reached them and explained the situation, they were shocked into action. One of them approached the homeless man and asked if he was alright, but as they drew closer and saw the state of his body, they were overcome with horror and fear.

  The man's legs were scarred and covered in dust, and bruises marred his skin as if a herd of horses had trampled over him.

  A rope burn encircled his neck, and his face was a bloody mess, save for a pair of piercing blue eyes that seemed to speak volumes. The group stood in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. Even the teen who had spoken to the man backed away, overwhelmed by the sight before him. And as the homeless man's eyes slowly closed, the teens knew they had to act fast if they hoped to save him.

  It was two days later when the homeless man finally woke up, and as he came to, he found himself in a strange and unfamiliar place. He was clean and washed, and a brown blanket covered his body, reminiscent of those distributed in war camps. As he moved it aside, he was struck by the unfamiliar clothes he was wearing: white pyjamas and socks. He held the t-shirt in his hands, stretching it as if he had never seen such garments before. And then he heard a voice, asking if he didn't like his outfit.

  The homeless man turned to see where the voice was coming from, and was confronted with a sight that left him stunned: twenty iron bars, and beyond them, a woman in a blue uniform, pen and notebook in hand. He realised he was in a small square cell, no more than five metres on each side. It was a far cry from the streets he had called home.

  "Where am I? Who are you? And what am I doing here?" the homeless man asked.

  "Well, well, a man with a lot of questions," the police woman said. "But I think it's us who should be asking the questions here, sir." She clicked her pen and adopted a serious expression as she asked, "Let's start with the basics. What's your name, sir?"

  "What is that?" The homeless man pointed to the pen in the police officer's hand with surprise.

  "I beg your pardon?" The police officer looked at him with confusion.

  "What's that in your hands?" The homeless man repeated his question, gesturing towards the pen.

  "Oh, you mean this?" The police officer waved the pen in front of him with a hint of sarcasm. "We call it a pen." She tried to maintain her patience. "Now, can we please start with your name? I don't have all day to waste."

  The homeless man tried to answer, but found that he couldn't. It wasn't that he was hiding his name or anything, but he just couldn't remember it. He didn't realise this until the police officer asked him.

  It took the homeless man a moment to accept that he couldn't remember his name. When he finally spoke, it was in a shallow tone. "I can't remember," he said, but his face conveyed so much more. He was flummoxed by his inability to remember even his own name, and it was clear that his mental and physical states were not at their best. The police officer could sense this and decided to go easy on him for now, though her curiosity got the better of her. "What happened to your face?" she asked.

  The homeless man looked at her again and tentatively placed his hand on his face, as if feeling for the scars and burns that marked his skin. He moved his hand slowly, as if he were a blind man trying to explore an unfamiliar surface.

  Every time he encountered a scar or burn, his hand movement slowed and his eyes showed more confusion. There was no mirror in the cell, and he had no way of seeing his own reflection.

  After exploring his face, the homeless man replied, "I don't know..." and then asked, "Does it look bad?" The police officer, Jessica, watched him closely, sensing that he wasn't lying. She replied, "We can treat the scars, but first, we have to know who you are." She stood up and started walking towards the door.

  "I'll get you a mirror. It might help you remember something." As she left the room, the homeless man continued to touch his scars, hoping that something would come back to him. He thought to himself, "Mirror?"

  As Jessica walked through the precinct's outdated and barely functioning equipment, she couldn't help but feel frustrated. "Why does everything in this village have to be weird?" she muttered to herself as she approached her desk and threw down her notebook.

  "I think you're tired. Go have some rest," her colleague Katelyn said.

  "So, you just run away from your problems by sleeping?" Jessica asked with an attitude.

  "Hey, what's with the attitude? How is the stray man? Is he a problem for you?" Katelyn asked.

  "This man you're talking about was dying on the streets," Jessica said, unable to hide her anger.

  "Woah, calm down. Why are you so upset?" Katelyn asked.

  "I don't know. I just feel extra sorry for this guy. I want to help him, but we both know how this will end," Jessica said.

  "What do you mean? Do you think they'll just throw him back on the streets?" Katelyn asked.

  "Maybe. You know that if there's no benefit to the case, they won't care much. But we're not like them, right?" Jessica looked at her friend with a smile, feeling that her colleague would help her with this case and that it wouldn't be like any other.

  There are many stories about police officers, particularly those working in impoverished towns, who don't care about people or their safety. They have no sense of justice, but Jessica is different. She was raised in a small Christian family, where her parents taught her that all humans are equal and that the purpose of life is to be a good person, loving and helping others, and wishing only love and peace upon others.

  As Jessica searched through the precinct's storage room, filled with iron shelves and boxes of various found and lost items, she looked for a plastic mirror to give to the homeless man. She was worried that he might harm himself or others, as he didn't seem mentally stable. After an hour of searching, she finally found a plastic mirror with a black back. She picked it up, replaced the box, and returned it to its shelf. With the mirror in hand, Jessica returned to the homeless man's cell and found him sitting on the floor, his head in his arms. He didn't even look up when he heard someone approaching, but Jessica placed the mirror on the floor and passed it through the cell door to him.

  As Jessica stood in front of the cell, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The man inside was a mystery to her – she had found him on the streets, almost dead, with scars and burns covering his body. She had no idea who he was or how he had ended up in such a state.

  "Look at your face," Jessica said, trying to get the man's attention. "Tell me what you can see."

  To her surprise, the man seemed to understand her words. He looked at the object she had passed to him – a mirror – and smiled.

  "That's a mirror?" the man asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Jessica was taken aback by the question. Was he making fun of her, or was he simply mentally unstable? She didn't show any reaction, hoping to get a better understanding of him.

  "Yeah, we call that a mirror," Jessica said, trying to keep her tone even. "Check it out."

  The man took the mirror and held it up to his face, staring at his reflection in shock. It was as if he had never seen a mirror before.

  "So that's how I look?" the man asked, turning to Jessica with a confused expression.

  Jessica was surprised by the question. It was clear that the man had suffered some kind of trauma, but his words and actions seemed too thoughtful to be those of a crazy person.

  "Yes, a handsome man you are," Jessica said, trying to put the man at ease

  The man turned to Jessica with a look of accusation on his face. "And you did this to my face?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Jessica was taken aback by the homeless man's accusation. "I did what?" she asked, confused by his words.

  It took a moment for Jessica to realise what he meant – he was talking about the scars on his face. "Oh, you mean your face?" she asked, shocked by his assumption. "No, of course not! Why would you say that?"

  "Because you have me like a prisoner," the homeless man replied, his voice level and serious.

  Jessica was completely puzzled by the man's words. His answers were too thoughtful and considered to be those of a crazy person, but she still had no idea what was going on. She decided to try and continue the conversation, hoping to get some answers.

  "You're not a prisoner," Jessica said firmly. "We found you almost dead on the streets. We're just trying to help you and make sure you're okay. We'll set you free once we know what happened to you and who did this to you."

  The homeless man didn't respond, simply staring at her with a blank expression.

  Jessica replied with a soft and gentle voice. "I'm here to help you. I know this might be difficult to believe, but I really do want you to be free. I'm not going to force you to do anything, but if you don't work with me, I can't predict what might happen. Please, just trust me. Let me help you."

  As Jessica left the cell, the homeless man couldn't help but listen to her words, yearning to know his own name. Despite his initial reservations, he couldn't sense any threat from her, and so he returned his attention to the mirror, studying his reflection for hours on end.

  Finally, as the clock struck 1 AM, the homeless man drifted off to sleep, tucking the mirror under his pillow before falling into a deep slumber.

  But even in his dreams, he was not at peace, as he found himself wandering through the winding paths of a graveyard on a cold and lonely evening.

  A raven perched atop a leafless tree, its beady eyes fixed upon the homeless man as he walked by. With a harsh caw, the bird took flight, soaring over the man's shoulder as he smiled in a way that was almost demonic. But the raven was not fooled, and with a final warning glance, it flew away into the night, leaving the homeless man alone once more.

  The homeless man jolted awake, his heart racing as the remnants of his nightmare lingered in his mind. But as he turned his head towards the tiny window of his cell, he was startled to see a raven standing there, its eyes fixed upon him. With a loud caw, the bird took flight, disappearing from view as the homeless man threw off his blankets and rushed to the window to see where it had gone.

  As the homeless man looked out into the darkness, he was greeted by a desolate and quiet village, the streets illuminated only by the faint glow of moonlight. He stood there for a moment, taking in the view and feeling a sense of loneliness wash over him.

  The prison in which he was held was a looming and intimidating structure, its rough white-grey walls rising high into the air. It had been built atop a mountain, the highest point in the village, and its strategic location allowed the guards to keep watch over the surrounding area. The homeless man couldn't help but feel a sense of oppression as he gazed up at the prison, his eyes taking in the rough and jagged stones that made up its walls.

  Despite the cool night air, he could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he stood there, feeling trapped and helpless.

  The prison where the homeless man was being held was an imposing structure, rising twenty feet tall and constructed of rough, white-gray rock. It had been built on the highest point of the village, atop a mountain, and its strategic location allowed the scouts to keep watch over the surrounding area. Four walls encircled the prison, each one punctuated by a tall, circular tower that housed the scouts who guarded the facility. Despite the passing of many years, the prison remained largely unchanged, its rugged beauty and sturdy construction standing the test of time. While some renovations may have been necessary over the years, the building was still in excellent condition and was sure to stand for many more decades to come.

  The village of Aras was a small and isolated place, located more than 200 miles north of the Arctic Circle in Norway. It had been named after the first king who ruled over the village, and throughout the centuries, it had gained a reputation for being cursed by the solar god Helios. As a result, few people dared to live in Aras, which was known for its cold, cloudy, and snowy weather. But over time, as people became more educated and less superstitious, they began to move to the village in greater numbers.

  Despite the lack of sunlight, Aras was blessed with fertile land that allowed plants and trees to flourish with little effort. The village was filled with greenery, and although the houses were old and the tallest building was shorter than the prison, it was a peaceful and picturesque place. The population of Aras never exceeded 3,000 people, and most of its residents were elderly.

  For teenagers, living in a poor village like Aras was a nightmare. As soon as they reached the age of 18, most of them couldn't wait to leave and start a new life elsewhere. There was no social life to speak of, no coffee shops or other gathering places, and even getting groceries was a chore, as there was only one shop in the entire village.

  Despite all of these drawbacks, many people still loved living in Aras. They claimed that the village was somehow blessed, and that its people were accepting and welcoming to all who came their way. Whether or not this was truly the case, it was clear that the village held a special place in the hearts of those who called it home.

  As the homeless man took in his first view of the village, he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. The lights of the houses twinkled in the snow-covered streets, and the entire scene was infused with a magical quality. He stood there for a while, letting the cold wind whip around him as he enjoyed the sound of the thunder in the distance.

  Despite the beauty of the scene before him, the homeless man did not smile. Instead, he simply stood there, taking in the sights and sounds around him, trying to find a sense of peace in the midst of his confusion.

  "Where am I?" he muttered to himself before turning away from the window and making his way back to his bed.

  He removed the pillow and retrieved the plastic mirror, gazing at his reflection in the hope that it might jog his memory and help him remember his name. But try as he might, he could not remember anything about his past, and with a sigh of frustration, he tossed the mirror to the ground and returned to sleep.

  The next day, Jessica overslept and missed her alarm, causing her to curse and rush out of bed. She quickly grabbed her uniform from the closet and headed to the bathroom to wash her face. As she looked in the mirror, she couldn't help but shake her head in disbelief at how the homeless man had seemed to have no idea what a mirror was. She laughed sarcastically to herself before getting dressed and heading out to her car.

  As she drove to the precinct, Jessica saw James, the elderly man who had first encountered the homeless man, walking down the street. She pulled over to the side of the road and called out to him, "Hello, Sir!"

  James turned around to see who was calling, and his face broke into a smile when he saw Jessica. "Hello Jessy, how's it going?" he asked.

  Jessica smiled back. "You'll keep calling me Jessy?"

  James chuckled. "I would stop if it bothers you," he said with a grin.

  "No, not at all. Jessy it is," Jessica replied.

  "How are you doing, my darling?" James asked.

  "I'm doing great, I guess. And you? Is everything okay?" Jessica replied.

  "If I can still walk and remember who stops me, I'm at my best," he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

  Jessica smiled, but remained quiet, as if she wanted to say something but was not quite ready. James noticed her hesitation and asked, "Darling, what is it that made you stop by me?"

  Jessica hesitated for a moment before replying, "It's nothing. I'm just curious. I'm talking about the man you found three days ago."

  When James heard Jessica mention the homeless man, he closed his eyes and whispered a quick prayer. When he opened them again, he said, "You should be thanking your god you didn't see how his condition was."

  Jessica remained silent, unsure of what to say. James opened the door of her car and climbed inside, saying, "You know there's no bar or coffee shop in this goddamn city, but I know where to find one. I have a small bar in my house.

  As Jessica and James arrived at James' home, Jessica was surprised by the interior design of the house. It seemed as though it had been built in the

  1900s, with walls made of wood and small orange lights in every corner, reminiscent of the candles that were once used in lighthouses. The floor and ceiling were also made of wood, while the only non-wooden feature was the chimney.

  The walls of the house were adorned with ancient paintings and drawings of wars and horses, and above the chimney hung a long Viking sword dating back to 800 CE. The blade was around 90 cm long and double-edged, decorated with pattern welding and inscribed with old northern words. James had been told that the sword belonged to one of his ancestors.

  As Jessica looked around the house, she remarked, "I didn't know you were still living in the past," with a smile.

  James chuckled and replied, "Sometimes you can't stop living in the past," with a smile of his own. He paused for a moment before asking, "So is it coffee or tea?"

  "I think I'll have coffee. I can feel a headache coming on," Jessica replied.

  "Coffee it is then," James said before turning to start preparing it. As he worked, Jessica asked, "What did you see when you first saw him?"

  James sighed and said, "Ah, that poor man. I can't stop thinking about him. It's not the first time I've seen someone sleeping on the streets. There are many homeless people, but he is different. My darling, did you see his eyes?"

  "What do you mean?" Jessica asked.

  "This man is not something ordinary," James said, his voice lowering. "I saw something in his pupils. It wasn't typical. I see a lot of people every day, and I can see yours now, but there's nothing special about them. Just a regular lady with clear sights. But when I saw his eyes, I couldn't handle myself. He freaked me out."

  Jessica couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What do you mean, you heard him? He couldn't speak?"

  James handed her the coffee and met her gaze. "That's exactly what I mean. He was completely mute, but I could still hear him. It was like he was whispering in my ear, even though he wasn't making a sound. And then there were his eyes...they threatened me, Jessica. I can't explain it any better than that."

  Jessica felt a shiver run down her spine. She didn't fully understand what James was telling her, but she knew that it couldn't be good. "And the homeless man you're talking about, he's never seen his own face before? How is that possible?" She added.

  James shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is what I saw and heard. But whatever happened to him, it's not normal. I'm sure of that much."

  As Jessica left James's house and got into her car, her mind was racing. She couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened to the homeless man, and she was determined to find out the truth. As she drove to the precinct, she couldn't help but wonder what had caused the man's memory loss and who could have inflicted such cruelty upon him.

  Jessica pulled into the precinct parking lot and quickly made her way to her office. As she walked through the door, she was greeted by her colleague Katelyn, who was busy with some paperwork.

  "It looks like someone had an exciting night," Katelyn commented, giving Jessica a knowing look.

  "What do you mean?" Jessica asked, a bit taken aback. "And good morning, by the way."

  "Well, it looks like you slept over," Katelyn said with a sly smile. "I'm guessing you weren't alone?"

  Jessica crossed her arms and glared at Katelyn. "You got one thing right. I did sleep over. But I'm sorry to disappoint you, I was alone. I couldn't stop thinking about that homeless man from yesterday."

  Katelyn's expression softened. "Still thinking about the weirdo? How's he doing, by the way?"

  "I have no idea," Jessica admitted, moving her bag from the chair to the desk and taking a seat. "But I was hoping you might know something."

  "Well, we served him some food this morning, but he was eating like a savage," Katelyn said, shaking her head.

  "He's probably starving," Jessica pointed out. "Just bear with him."

  Katelyn raised an eyebrow. "You know, if you want to find out what happened to that stranger, you might have to keep your emotions in check a little bit."

  Jessica was about to argue with Katelyn, but their superior officer David interrupted them by knocking on the door. "Good morning, ladies," he said, poking his head into the room.

  Jessica and Katelyn stood up out of respect as their superior officer, David, entered the room. "Good morning, sir!" they chorused.

  "Please, sit down," David said, gesturing for them to take their seats. "I'm sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to follow up on your cases. Katelyn, how are things going?"

  "I finished all the cases handed to me last week, sir," Katelyn replied, returning to her paperwork. "I'm just filling out the necessary paperwork and will put them on your desk once they're finished."

  "Excellent," David said, turning his attention to Jessica. "And what about you, Jessica? I noticed you were a bit short on cases last week, which is unusual for you."

  Jessica fidgeted in her seat, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Well, I was working on some cases, but..."

  David interrupted her before she could finish. "Please, Jessica, I'm waiting for you in my office. Don't be late." With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Jessica to gather her thoughts and head to his office for their meeting.

  David was a well-respected member of the police force, with a long and distinguished career spanning over 30 years. As a black gentleman, he was known for his fairness and dedication to justice, and his colleagues held him in high regard. Despite his age of 54, David had a youthful appearance and carried himself with confidence. Standing at a tall 1.8 metres, he was a commanding presence, with deep brown eyes and a clean-shaven face.

  Despite his professional demeanour, David was also a supportive and caring leader, and his officers felt comfortable and at ease in his presence. His wisdom and experience were invaluable assets to the precinct, and he was loved and respected by all who knew him.

  Jessica knocked on David's office door and stepped inside when he called for her to enter. "You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked, taking a seat in the chair he gestured towards.

  Stolen story; please report.

  David smiled at her. "I've heard that you've been busy recently with the homeless man case. Any updates?"

  "I've been investigating the case, but the victim is still not fully responsive," Jessica replied, a hint of surprise in her voice.

  David nodded. "Yes, I've seen him too. It's clear that he's still traumatised. Has he been able to remember his name or anything about his past?"

  "No, he can't even remember his name or where he is," Jessica said, her answers short and to the point.

  David could sense that Jessica was hesitant to speak more about the case, so he tried to draw her out. "I've also heard that he can't remember anything about his family or any relatives. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, that's right," Jessica confirmed.

  David leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. "This man's story reminds me of something that happened when I first started working here. There was a war going on between two countries, and a lot of innocent people were killed. It was a violation of human rights, but nobody seemed to care. The only hope for these people was to seek refuge in another country. But at that time, anyone who entered that country illegally was sentenced to death on the spot. It was a deplorable situation, I know. But things are different now. If people want to seek refuge, they can simply sneak into another country and change their names, their histories, and even their families, just to start a new life." David fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.

  Jessica looked at David with curious eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked.

  David held her gaze, his voice serious. "I want you to be objective in this case. Don't let your emotions get too involved with what you see. It's possible that the victim is lying, even if there's only a small chance of it. We have to focus on finding evidence and not let our personal feelings cloud your judgement."

  Jessica's disappointment was clear on her face. "You think he might be lying?"

  "I'm trying to take a rational and objective approach to this," David explained. "It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what evidence we can find."

  Jessica smiled ruefully, fully aware of the wisdom in David's words. She stood up and said, "Thank you, sir. Thank you for everything." David waved his hand dismissively and Jessica turned to leave his office. However, she paused just outside the door, as if she had forgotten something, before turning back to David.

  "Excuse me, sir, I have a request," Jessica said, re-entering the room.

  "Yes, I'm all ears," David replied, leaning back in his chair.

  "Could we transfer the homeless man to a better environment?" Jessica asked, her words hesitant as she struggled to find the right words. "Somewhere more...home-like?"

  David raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Jessica's request. "Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Please fill out the necessary paperwork and I'll sign it. But before we do that, I'd like to speak with the homeless man myself."

  Jessica looked at David with a mix of excitement and worry. She was excited at the prospect of getting the homeless man into a better environment, but she was also worried about how David's no-nonsense approach might affect the homeless man during their meeting. David could be tough during interrogations and investigations, and Jessica wasn't sure how the homeless man would react.

  The homeless man's condition was slowly improving day by day. His scars were fading and his physical movements were becoming more agile. Mentally, he was also showing signs of improvement. Although he still couldn't remember anything about his past, he was able to answer questions and respond to the officers in a more coherent manner.

  David and Jessica approached the homeless man's cell, stopping a few feet away to observe him. David gestured for Jessica to stay where she was as they walked closer to the cell. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to Jessica, placing a hand on her shoulder to signal that he wanted her to stay put. Jessica understood and remained where she was as David continued towards the cell alone.

  David continued walking towards the homeless man's cell, determined to get a better understanding of the man's condition. As he approached the cell, he grabbed the chair that was placed nearby and carried it inside. He wanted to sit down and observe the homeless man's reactions up close.

  David fished out his key chain, which held more than 20 keys, and with a quick shake, he was able to locate the key to the cell. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, where he found the homeless man sitting on the floor. David paused for a moment before walking over and taking a seat on the bed, which was higher than the chair and offered a better view of the homeless man. With that, David began the conversation, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the homeless man's past.

  "Why did you change your position?" David asked the homeless man. "You can stay on the floor if you prefer. Please feel comfortable."

  The homeless man gave David a peculiar look, his gaze intense and unsettling. He didn't reply to David's question, prompting David to ask, "Is anything wrong, sir?"

  "It seems you've been serving here a long time," the homeless man replied, his words unexpected and odd.

  David was taken aback by the question, but he tried to remain focused. "Impressive. You know what the badge on my shoulder means," he said, gesturing to the insignia on his uniform.

  The homeless man looked at David's shoulder as if he had never seen a badge before, then shook his head. "You had many keys in your hands, and you guessed it without mistake," he said.

  David was amused by the homeless man's observation. He had opened the cell without the man even looking at him, so he must have guessed the keys by sound alone. "You seem to be a wise man," David said, his curiosity and confusion about the homeless man growing. "But how did a wise man like you end up on the streets?"

  The homeless man looked at David as if he didn't understand the question and remained silent. David persisted, saying, "Listen, sir. I have no interest in keeping you here. My mission is to help you. I want to offer you a shoulder to lean on. Can you trust me?"

  "So you're saying I can trust you?" the homeless man asked.

  "I promise you this," David said firmly. "If you trust me, you don't have to spend a minute here. You have my word."

  "Very well," the homeless man exclaimed, his voice laced with resignation. "It seems that I am completely ignorant of the current situation. My memory is utterly blank, and I have no understanding of how I came to be in this place. However, one thing is clear to me: I am not familiar with either of you." He gestured towards the hidden Jessica, causing David and Jessica to start in surprise. "Pray tell, why did you choose to keep her standing there, concealed in the shadows, where she is able to both hear and observe our conversation?"

  Jessica was shocked by the homeless man's perception; he hadn't even seen her, yet he was able to guess her presence based on sound alone. David, too, was taken aback by the man's ability to analyse and interpret information with such accuracy.

  "Please understand the situation," David said, trying to calm the man. "I wanted to keep this conversation private."

  "A lying leader," the homeless man spat out, his tone aggressive and impulsive. "At least be an excellent, flawless idol in the presence of your followers."

  David was surprised by the homeless man's sudden outburst, but he remained silent, not wanting to escalate the situation further. The homeless man seemed to calm down, saying, "You can leave now. I'm done talking."

  David stood and moved his chair out of the cell, but he left it just outside the door. He locked the cell and said, "I'm leaving now, but I'll be back tomorrow." The homeless man made no reaction as David walked away. Jessica was shocked by the man's sudden change in attitude; he had been so confident and intelligent just moments before, but now he seemed to have shut down completely. David returned to his office, with Jessica following close behind. She closed the door behind them as David took his seat and settled in.

  David was left feeling confused and unsure after his encounter with the homeless man. He had expected the man to be weak and timid, but instead, he had displayed aggression and confidence. David was also amazed by the homeless man's responses to his questions; he had not expected such intelligence from him. Jessica tried to read David's face, but she couldn't quite discern his thoughts. She approached David and asked, "Sir? You seem a little confused."

  David replied in a low, almost fearful voice, "His eyes..." Jessica was alarmed by this, as she had already heard these words from James. She asked, "What about his eyes, sir?"

  David shook his head, struggling to find the right words to describe what he had experienced. "I don't know, it's just... I've never seen eyes that can almost talk. The way he was looking at me, I'm not going to lie - I was shaking inside. I had my gun with me, but even then, I knew that he was in a position where he couldn't hurt me. But god, he frightened me."

  As Jessica listened to David speak, her curiosity was piqued. She couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as she listened to him describe a man who seemed to be threatening him. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the situation.

  Finally, she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "Sir, what are you talking about?" she asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

  David looked at her with a mixture of fear and confusion. "He seemed to be threatening me… I don't know, it is unusual for me, but… this man is extraordinary," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

  Jessica's mind raced as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. "What do you suggest doing now, Sir?" she asked, hoping to get some guidance from her superior.

  David sighed and rubbed his temples. "Let me think about it; I'll need some time. You may leave now," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

  "Alright, sir," Jessica replied, bowing her head slightly before turning and making her way out of the room. As she left, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, and she knew that she would have to keep a close eye on the situation. She had to know what was so special about the homeless man's eyes. She made her way to his cell, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

  As Jessica approached the cell, she saw the homeless man standing at the window, his eyes fixed on the blackbirds outside. He seemed lost in thought, almost as if he were in a trance. Jessica coughed lightly to get his attention, but he didn't seem to notice her.

  Feeling a little uneasy, Jessica reached into her back pocket and wrapped her fingers around the electric taser she kept there for situations like this. She pulled out her keys and unlocked the cell, opening the door carefully. The homeless man didn't even seem to notice, his gaze still fixed on the birds outside.

  Stepping cautiously into the cell, Jessica approached the man and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He still didn't seem to care about her presence but here he noticed her, and Jessica couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind. Regardless, she knew she had to be careful around him; he was, after all, a prisoner.

  As the homeless man turned around slowly, Jessica was taken aback by the cold, expressionless look on his face. But as she met his gaze, she was surprised to find that his eyes weren't threatening or frightening at all. In fact, they were quite the opposite - they were calm and relaxing, a deep, dark blue that seemed to be filled with magic.

  Jessica couldn't help but feel drawn in by those eyes, and she found herself lost in their depths. She saw no hint of evil in them, only goodness and virtue. And as she looked at the man, she couldn't help but feel that a strange connection had formed between them at that moment. His face seemed to reflect the same feeling, as if he too was attracted to her.

  As the homeless man spoke, Jessica was amazed by the calm, collected way he carried himself. She found herself at a loss for words, but after a moment, she remembered that it would be rude to stay silent.

  "I am sorry if I bothered you," she said, trying to sound sincere. "I just wanted to ask if you needed anything before I go."

  The homeless man looked at her quizzically. "Do you treat all the prisoners the same way you treat me?" he asked.

  Jessica hesitated, wondering how to respond. "I told you, you're not a prisoner," she said, a little defensively. "It's just that..."

  But the homeless man interrupted her. "Just what? If I'm not a prisoner, why are you keeping me here?" he asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.

  Jessica sighed, knowing that she had no good answer to that question. "We are already discussing letting you go or moving you to a hospital or a place where you can stay under supervision," she explained. "I'm sorry, but we can't let you go. You don't even have an ID."

  The homeless man looked confused. "ID? What do you mean?" he asked.

  Jessica couldn't help but roll her eyes a little. "You can't expect me to believe that memory loss would make you forget about something as basic as an ID," she said sarcastically. Seeing the man's confusion, she explained further. "An ID is a small plastic card that holds your name, gender, age, nationality, and other personal information. It's a way of identifying who you are."

  As Jessica spoke to the homeless man, she could see that he was growing increasingly offended by her words. He turned and walked slowly towards the cell door, and for a moment, Jessica thought he might try to run away.

  But as he reached the door and stood beside it, she realised that he was simply trying to get her to leave.

  "It would be very appreciated if you leave," he said, his voice cold and distant.

  Jessica was taken aback by his request, but after a moment, she understood that she had been bothering him. "I'm just… lost," she said, trying to explain herself. "I've seen some cases of memory loss before, but I've never met someone who can't remember things like a mirror, a pen, or an ID. It's just odd."

  The homeless man did not lift his gaze to meet Jessica's eyes as she spoke, instead keeping his attention fixed on the ground beneath him. When she had finished speaking, he responded in a monotone, void of any discernible emotion. "You know," he began, "perhaps it would be best to consider those thoughts outside the confines of this cell."

  Jessica looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. She had wanted to talk to him and try to understand what was going on, but it was clear that he wasn't ready or willing to speak to her. With a sigh, she stepped out of the cell, locked the door behind her, and left without saying another word.

  As Jessica stormed back to her office, her mind was racing with thoughts of the strange man she had encountered in the cell. She was furious, ready to take out her frustration on anything in front of her. Once she was alone in her office, she sat down and tried to calm her racing thoughts.

  Turning on her computer, Jessica quickly launched her browser and typed in the search term "memory loss." She wanted to get more information about the symptoms and possible treatments for the condition.

  But as she scrolled through the results, she was disappointed to find that most of the information was vague and not very helpful.

  One result caught her eye, however: "Memory loss is unusual forgetfulness. You may not be able to remember new events, recall one or more memories of the past, or both. The memory loss may be for a short time and then resolve. Or, it may not go away, and, depending on the cause, it can worsen over time." Jessica's heart sank as she read the last part of the description. She didn't want the man to stay lost in his memories, and she needed more reliable information to help him.

  Determined to find someone who could help, Jessica continued to search online for doctors who specialised in memory loss. After a few minutes, she came across a recommendation for a woman named Diana Larsen, who was supposed to be an expert in the field. Jessica quickly wrote down the doctor's name and address on a small piece of paper and tucked it into her pocket, determined to do everything she could to help the homeless man.

  On the next rainy morning, Jessica found herself driving to the doctor's clinic with a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She was torn between wanting the homeless man to be telling the truth and hoping that he was lying. She didn't know what she wanted, and she was at a total loss.

  As she pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, Jessica took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. She stepped out of her car and made her way into the building, but as she entered the lobby, she noticed that there were no other patients waiting.

  The secretary, noticing Jessica standing in the lobby and looking around, called out to her. "Can I help you, officer?" she asked.

  As Jessica walked into the office, she didn't realise that someone was sitting behind the desk until she heard a voice. She turned around and saw a woman sitting there, looking at her with a friendly smile.

  "Oh, sorry, I didn't pay attention that you're here," Jessica said, feeling embarrassed.

  "It's okay," the secretary replied with a laugh. "I know the desk location can be a bit confusing. Are you looking for someone?"

  "Yeah, I'm looking for Doctor Diana Larsen. Is she here?" Jessica asked.

  The secretary’s expression changed slightly, and she looked at Jessica with a hint of concern. "Why? Is she in trouble?"

  "No, not at all," Jessica reassured her. "I'm here to ask her some questions, but it has nothing to do with any trouble. I just wanted to get some insights from her for an article I'm writing."

  The secretary nodded, seeming to understand. "I see. Well, let me just check if she's available. I'll knock on her office door and see if she's free to speak with you."

  The secretary got up from her desk and walked over to a door on the other side of the room. She knocked lightly and then opened it slightly, talking to someone inside. Jessica waited patiently, feeling a bit nervous but also excited to speak with Doctor Larsen. After a moment, the woman turned back to Jessica and said with a smile, "You may enter."

  As Jessica approached Diana's office, she took a deep breath and entered, closing the door behind her. Inside, she found Doctor Diana Larsen standing beside her desk, looking at Jessica expectantly. The doctor approached her and extended her hand, introducing herself.

  "Good morning, officer...," she began, her voice trailing off as if she was waiting for Jessica to provide her name.

  "It's Jessica!" Jessica said, shaking the doctor's hand.

  "It's nice to meet you, Jessica," Doctor Larsen said with a warm smile.

  "Thanks," Jessica replied. "I was actually wondering why a famous doctor like you doesn't have anyone in the waiting room."

  Doctor Larsen chuckled. "My patients aren't as energetic as you are. No one comes to a neurologist at 8 in the morning, at least not in this village."

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Jessica said, feeling embarrassed.

  "Don't be," Doctor Larsen replied, gesturing for Jessica to take a seat. "It seems to be important that you're here so early. But let me guess, it has something to do with a case?"

  "I think what I've read about you is correct," Jessica said with a smile. "Little things can't be hidden from you."

  Doctor Larsen chuckled. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it's important to you. So, what's on your mind, Jessica?"

  Jessica hesitated, wondering how to explain the strange case she had come across. "I don't know if I should talk about it or just let you meet him. It's just...I can't describe it."

  Doctor Larsen leaned forward, her expression serious. "Try. Just use your words and I'll try to piece together the puzzle."

  Jessica took a deep breath. "Have you heard about the man they found last week, naked and almost dead on the streets?"

  Doctor Larsen nodded. "We live in a small village with no secrets. What about him?"

  "It turns out he can't remember anything, not even his name, nor objects" Jessica said.

  "That's not uncommon," Doctor Larsen replied. "Memory loss can sometimes lead to that. But what do you mean by not recognizing objects?"

  Jessica could see that she had piqued the doctor's interest. "It seemed like it was the first time he saw a mirror, and even a pen seemed new to him. But all of that was normal until he denied knowing what an ID is."

  "To be honest, I've never heard of such symptoms," Doctor Larsen said, frowning. "Did you have a chance to talk to him? How did he seem?"

  "He's very intelligent," Jessica replied. "Whenever I asked him a question, his answers always made me feel stupid."

  Doctor Larsen nodded thoughtfully. "I'd like to meet him. Maybe that will help me understand him better. Did you ask him about his family or anything?"

  "Like I said, he can't even remember his own name," Jessica said, shaking her head. "I didn't want to push him too hard, but I'm starting to wonder if there's something deeper going on here."

  "In all the cases I've worked on, there's one thing that all patients can never forget, and that's their loved ones," Doctor Larsen said, a thoughtful look on her face. "I wonder if that might be a way to reach him."

  "Do you think it will work?" Jessica asked, hopeful.

  Doctor Larsen shrugged. "I can't say for certain, but it won't hurt to try. Now, let's go meet him and see what we can learn."

  Jessica nodded, feeling convinced by Doctor Larsen's questions and expertise. They left the office together, Jessica driving them to the precinct where the man was being held. On the way there, Doctor Larsen started a conversation with Jessica.

  "It seems like you care a lot about this man," she said, glancing over at Jessica. "Do you know him?"

  "I care about all of my cases," Jessica said, her voice tight.

  "But this one sounds a little special," Doctor Larsen said, looking at Jessica with a knowing expression.

  Jessica didn't say anything in response, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence as they drove to the precinct. Jessica focused on the road ahead, her mind racing with thoughts about the mysterious man and what they might find when they met him.

  When they finally arrived at the precinct, Jessica parked the car and they got out. As they walked towards the gates, Jessica realised that she had forgotten to tell her superior officer, David, about bringing Doctor Larsen with her.

  "Do you mind waiting a moment before meeting him?" Jessica asked Doctor Larsen, feeling a little anxious. "I forgot to inform my superior officer."

  Doctor Larsen chuckled, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "The more you talk, the more you prove that this man is special. I'll wait in the lobby near your superior officer's office."

  Jessica nodded and the two of them headed towards David's office. When they reached it, Jessica asked Doctor Larsen to wait in the lobby while she knocked on the door and entered. Inside, she found David sitting at his desk, looking busy with a pile of paperwork in front of him.

  "Yes, Jessica?" he asked, looking up at her.

  "Sir, I know you're busy, but I wanted to let you know that I've brought someone who might be able to help us with the homeless man case," Jessica said, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's a doctor, a neurologist."

  David looked at her with interest. "Is he a police officer?"

  "It's a she," Jessica corrected him. "And no, she's not a police officer. But I think she might be able to shed some light on the man's strange symptoms."

  "Hmm, I'm okay with that," David said, nodding. "But be sure to keep close to her and stay ready for any unexpected reactions."

  "You think he's dangerous, sir?" Jessica asked, feeling a little concerned.

  David sighed. "I'm just a bit traumatised by this man. No one has scared me more in my entire life. I haven't even gotten close to his cell since that incident."

  "With all due respect, sir, I think you might be exaggerating things a bit," Jessica said, trying to reassure him.

  "Maybe," David admitted. "But there's no harm in being cautious. Just be careful, Jessica."

  "I will, sir, I promise," Jessica said, giving him a reassuring smile before leaving his office.

  When she returned to the lobby, she found Doctor Larsen still waiting for her. "I'm sorry for making you wait," Jessica said. "But could you give me 10 minutes to prepare the interrogation room? I'll call for you when everything is ready."

  Doctor Larsen shook her head. "I'd rather meet him in his cell, if possible. It might be more helpful for me to see him in his natural environment."

  Jessica didn't react to this request, simply nodding and leading Doctor Larsen towards the homeless man's cell. As they walked, Doctor Larsen asked Jessica to stay behind while she talked to the man in private. But Jessica didn't seem to hear her, continuing to walk towards the cell.

  When they finally reached the cell, they found the homeless man standing at the window, holding one of the bars and leaning his head against it. He seemed to hear the sound of the keys and the cell door opening, but he didn't turn around or show any interest in what was happening. It was as if he had given up on caring about his own fate.

  Doctor Larsen entered the cell, but Jessica stayed outside, watching from behind the bars. Doctor Larsen moved the chair to the middle of the room and set her suitcase down on one of the corners. Still, the homeless man didn't seem to notice her presence.

  Doctor Larsen tried to get a reaction from him, considering standing beside him. But she wanted him to feel relaxed, so instead, she walked over to him and stood a few feet behind him.

  "What a lovely view," she said, trying to make conversation.

  But the homeless man didn't respond, remaining motionless and silent. Doctor Larsen sighed, wondering what she could do to reach him.

  "The clouds are about to disappear," the homeless man said, still not looking at Doctor Larsen.

  Doctor Larsen and Jessica exchanged a bemused look, as if they couldn't quite believe what they were hearing. Aras, the town they lived in, was known for its gloomy and rainy weather. The last time the sun had shone was over two hundred years ago, according to local legend.

  "What do you mean the clouds will disappear?" Doctor Larsen asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.

  "The sky is full of blackbirds," the homeless man said, still staring out the window.

  Blackbirds were a rare species of bird, resembling ravens but with distinctive orange beaks. They were known to seek out sunlight, but they also lived in freezing, snowy regions. It was unusual for someone to know about blackbirds, as it required a comprehensive knowledge of birds.

  Doctor Larsen walked over to the window to see what the homeless man was talking about. When she saw the group of black birds flying in formation, she said, "Oh, these are ravens. Do you call them blackbirds in your country?"

  The homeless man looked at Doctor Larsen, a hint of annoyance in his voice as he said, "Ravens don't have orange beaks. That's called a blackbird."

  As the homeless man spoke, Doctor Larsen couldn't help but feel a little scared. Jessica noticed her reaction and that was why she wanted to stay close to the cell while they met. Doctor Larsen tried to compose herself and walked back over to the chair. She placed her hand on the back of it and said, "Shall we sit?"

  The homeless man walked over to his bed and sat down facing Doctor Larsen. "I'm listening," he said.

  Doctor Larsen looked into the homeless man's eyes, trying to gauge his reactions. She was still a little worried and uneasy, but she tried to push through it. "I was told that you can't remember your name," she said.

  The homeless man nodded in response.

  "Do you remember where you come from? Or who did this to you?" Doctor Larsen asked, trying to gather more information.

  The homeless man shook his head and said, "If you do not wish to waste your time, your companion has already posed these inquiries to me. You may ask her for her impressions. I assure you, I am not perpetrating any untruths."

  "Can you prove it?" Doctor Larsen asked, a bit disappointed that she wasn't able to catch any lies or inconsistencies just by looking at the homeless man.

  She had hoped that her expertise in body language would allow her to catch any deceit, which was why she had asked him the same questions that David and Jessica had.

  "Prove that I can't remember my name?" the homeless man asked, looking confused.

  "Do you have any family members who might be able to help you remember your name?" Doctor Larsen asked, trying a different approach.

  At the mention of the word "family," the homeless man seemed to have a brief moment of discomfort. He closed his eyes for exactly three seconds before saying, surprisingly, "Yes."

  Jessica was amazed by this answer. Finally, they had a lead. It was still early days, but at least they had something to go on. This might help them track down the homeless man's family and get him back home.

  "Diana turned to the homeless man and asked about his family." Do you have any siblings?"

  The man nodded. "I have a brother. His name is Godwin Graves."

  "Is he here in Arasa?" Diana inquired.

  The homeless man shook his head. "No, he's never been here before. But I know where he lives."

  Diana noticed the confusion on the man's face and gently asked for his name. "What should we call you?"

  The man hesitated before responding. "You can call me Graves."

  Diana made a note of it in her notebook and continued to chat with Graves, trying to learn more about his life and his brother. Jessica sat nearby, taking notes and listening attentively to the conversation."

  Diana grabbed her suitcase and rummaged through it, searching for a pen and a notebook. She held the pen up to Graves' face and asked, "Do you know what this is?"

  Graves nodded. "It's a pen."

  Diana raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever used one before?"

  Graves shook his head. "No, I haven't."

  Diana made a note of it in her notebook before continuing her line of questioning. As she wrote down his brother's name, something seemed to jog her memory. She turned to Jessica, her expression worried. "Tell me again, how was his condition when you first brought him here?"

  As Jessica described the scars, burns, and blue spots on Graves' body, she noticed Diana's reactions. She was clearly disturbed by something, but Jessica had no idea what could have caused such a strong reaction.

  Suddenly, Diana stood up, packed her things into her suitcase, and left the room as if she had seen a ghost. Jessica was confused and didn't know what to make of the situation. She quickly gathered her own things and followed Diana, asking her what had caused such a strong reaction. "What the hell was that?"

  But Diana didn’t answer. As Diana rushed towards the exit of the precinct, Jessica noticed that she seemed to be running away from something. It was strange and suspicious behaviour. Jessica followed Diana, calling out to her and asking what was wrong. When she finally caught up with her, Jessica grabbed her elbow to stop her.

  "What is wrong with you? What was that?" Jessica asked, trying to make sense of Diana's odd behaviour.

  Diana was clearly terrified and struggled to speak. "Listen, it's only one thing I'm gonna say. Whatever this man is saying, he is not lying."

  Jessica was even more confused by this statement and continued to follow Diana, asking her to explain what was going on. Diana turned back and froze, looking panicked. "I'm I under arrest?" she asked, her voice trembling.

  "What?!" Jessica replied, shocked by the question.

  "Am I under arrest?" Diana repeated, her eyes wide with fear.

  Jessica shook her head, and Diana breathed a sigh of relief. "Then please, stop following me. I can't help you," she said before continuing on her way.

  Jessica watched as Diana flagged down a taxi and climbed inside, still trying to understand what had just happened. Despite being present for the entire conversation with Graves, she couldn't make sense of Diana's reaction. All she could conclude was that Graves had some knowledge about birds and nature, as he had correctly predicted the sun's behaviour.

  As Jessica walked slowly back into the precinct, her mind racing with questions about what had just happened, she suddenly remembered that

  Graves' cell door had been left open. Panicked at the thought of him escaping, she started running towards his cell. When she arrived, she was relieved to find that Graves was still there, standing by the window as he had been before.

  Jessica approached the cell slowly and asked, "How awkward, huh?"

  Graves turned to look at her, his expression innocent. "Me?" he asked.

  "No, I was talking about what happened with Diana," Jessica explained.

  Graves shrugged. "Everyone acts differently sometimes."

  "But she's a psychologist. She's supposed to be professional," Jessica pointed out.

  Graves smiled. "I don't know what a psychologist is, but I want to learn your terminology," he said before turning back to look out the window.

  Jessica made a note of it and said, "We'll work on that. By the way, you remembered your brother! Godwin, right?"

  Graves nodded. "Yes, I remember Godwin. His face, his voice. We were close, but I can't remember anything else."

  "What about the rest of your family? Your mother, father, wife, kids?" Jessica asked.

  Graves shook his head. "Just Godwin."

  As Jessica continued to question Graves, it became apparent that he had given up on trying to remember his past and was ready to let Jessica help him. He answered her questions honestly and seemed open to the possibility of rebuilding his memories. When he remembered his brother, he seemed to have renewed hope and a sense that there were people who cared about him outside of the precinct.

  Jessica watched as Graves became more friendly and open, and she no longer saw him as a threat. She made the decision to unlock his cell and let him out, but first she wanted to make sure he had something to eat. "I guess you're hungry. I'll tell them to send you some food," she said before leaving the cell and heading towards David's office.

  As she walked, she ran into David in the middle of the hallway. "Jessica, the officers told me about what happened. Is everything okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

  Jessica quickly updated David on the situation, explaining “while the therapy session hadn't gone as planned, we had made progress in discovering Graves' brother's name and family name, sir.”

  "That's great. What's your next move?" David asked, clearly interested in their progress.

  "I'm going to look through the records to see if we have any contact with his brother," Jessica replied.

  "What if he wasn't from here?" David asked.

  "Then we can't do anything, sir. Diana said he's not lying and if he really can't remember anything, we can't keep him here. We should let him go," Jessica said, her voice firm.

  David raised an eyebrow. "Go where? Are you aware of the risks involved in this? He could be kidnapped again."

  "I understand the risks, sir, but I don't think he's a threat. Plus, I know if we let him go, he might be in danger, but please, let me handle this?"

  Jessica pleaded, hoping to convince David to let her take on the case,

  David looked at Jessica, impressed by her dedication and skills as a detective and police officer. He knew he could trust her to handle the case and make the right decisions.

  "Only because I trust you, I will give you my permission, but you have to promise me two things," David said. "First, he will be living with you and under your supervision."

  "That's okay; I have extra room; I can spare him one," Jessica replied.

  "Great!" David said. "What's the other thing, sir?"

  "Don't let me down… you know how serious and dangerous this is, right? It has to be flawless," David said, his voice grave.

  "Don't worry, sir. I got this," Jessica assured him confidently.

  "Alright, then you're good to go," David said, giving Jessica his permission to continue with the case. "But first, go check if you can find any record for his siblings. Let me know if you need anything."

  "Alright, sir," Jessica replied before turning to leave and start her search for information on Graves' siblings.

  Excited and happy about the prospect of Graves' release, but also worried about the potential risks and challenges, Jessica set out to search for information on Graves' siblings. She started by looking through the police records in Aras, but unfortunately, she couldn't find anything on the system. Undeterred, Jessica spent hours searching online, but the results were frustratingly unhelpful. Social media yielded no results either, and it seemed like all the doors were closed in her search for information.

  Feeling discouraged and at a dead end, Jessica decided to speak to David. When she arrived at his office, she was disappointed to find that he wasn't there. In fact, the office was empty except for a few guards and night shift officers. Jessica realised that she had lost track of time, and it was very late. She didn't want Graves to have to stay any longer in the precinct, and she knew that she couldn't release him without David's approval.

  Determined to find a solution, Jessica decided to take matters into her own hands. She went back to David's office and was surprised to find that he had already left a signed release form on his desk. Jessica smiled and took the form, grateful for David's understanding and trust in her. She knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but she was ready to face any challenges that came her way.

  "Jessica was overjoyed and couldn't wait to tell Graves that he was now a free man. She found him napping in his cell, while outside a storm raged on. Suddenly, Graves was awakened by a nightmare: he was camping, but he couldn't see the location. He was inside a tent, looking out through the flap, when he heard some sort of music - psalms and drums. Suddenly, a raven flew into the tent aggressively.

  Shocked and sweating, Graves woke up and was startled to see Jessica standing outside his cell. "Was it a bad dream?" she asked, concern etched on her face. Graves hadn't noticed her at first, and her presence startled him again. But as he turned towards her voice, he realised it was just Jessica. He calmed down and asked, "Pray tell, what brings you to this place at this particular juncture in time?"

  Jessica stared at Graves, her expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "I'm sorry, but I fear I am still struggling to comprehend the terminology you are utilising," she said, her words laced with a kind of baffled uncertainty. Then she added "do you need some privacy?"?

  Graves: I can't get privacy in prison.

  Jessica: Who said anything about prison?

  Graves looked at her in confusion, unsure of what she meant. Then she said, "We're taking you out!"

  Graves got up from his bed and approached the bars. "You found my brother?" he asked, hopeful.

  Jessica: No, I'm sorry. But I have permission to release you.

  Graves: Oh, so where am I supposed to stay?

  Jessica: I have an extra room; you can stay with me. We can also work on your terminology there.

  Graves looked at her as if to say, "Are you kidding me?", but he remained silent.