In one of the remote streets, inside an old apartment building, there was a small detective office. Inside it stood an elderly figure with white hair and wrinkles etched across his face, yet traces of youth still lingered in his spirit.
Yes, that was Sebastian Crewin.
If one had to estimate his age, he would likely be in his sixties.
He leaned back on a chair beside his desk, a lit cigarette in his hand, its smoke slowly rising into the air.
Sebastian was lost in thought, gazing out the window at the moon.
The room he was in was in a miserable state. His desk was scattered with case files he had previously worked on.
He picked up one of those files, and his expression shifted into something heavy—filled with a thousand words, or rather, a gaze carrying deep complexity. What could be the reason behind it?
After staring at the file for a while, Sebastian placed it down and turned his chair back toward the window, once again looking at the moon. He reached for his lighter and relit the cigarette between his lips.
In the darkness of the apartment, Sebastian lowered his head, breaking the silence that filled the room.
"If so… the time has come to repay the debt, my friend."