01:00 PM
Ironport Police Headquarters – Commissioner Sinclair's Office
A messy room cluttered with piles of incident reports. Sinclair looks ten years older, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his phone won't stop ringing.
Amidst the suffocating tension, the office door swung open. The gentle scent of expensive perfume immediately swept away the musty odor of old papers. Ren stepped inside with a smile so serene, it was as if she weren't standing at the center of the storm ravaging the city.
Behind her, a man in a high-ranking officer's uniform, adorned with numerous medals, followed with an authoritative stride. **Den**.
### **A Performance in the Workplace**
Sinclair immediately stood at attention, his exhaustion momentarily replaced by shock. "High Commissioner Den? I didn't expect a visit from you."
"I was having lunch with my adopted daughter when she heard how heavy the burden you've been carrying lately has been, Sinclair," Den said in a deep baritone, patting Ren's shoulder with a seemingly genuine affection.
Sinclair looked at Ren, confused. "Adopted daughter?"
"Oh, Commissioner Sinclair, please forgive the sudden visit," Ren said in a sweet, empathetic tone. "Father often tells me how hard you work to keep Sector 1 safe. Seeing the news about the riots yesterday, I felt so concerned. I just wanted to make sure the city's hero isn't neglecting his own health."
Ren placed a box of premium snacks and a coffee thermos on Sinclair's cluttered desk.
### **Building the Invisible Wall**
Sinclair, who had previously suspected Ren's connections to underground factions, felt his brain freeze. If Ren was the "cherished daughter" of Den—the man who held the keys to police promotions and budgets—then suspecting her was equivalent to career suicide.
"Thank you, Miss Ren. You are very kind," Sinclair muttered, his voice softening. "The situation is... extremely difficult. There is a new group using technology we've never seen before."
"Father will help you, won't you, Father?" Ren turned to Den with a playful, pleading look.
Den cleared his throat, giving Sinclair a sharp stare. "Of course. I will ensure your department receives full support. But remember, Sinclair, focus on restoring public order. Do not waste time chasing vague shadows or harassing reputable civilians."
The message was crystal clear: *Don't touch Ren or her business.*
### **Secret Reports Behind a Smile**
While Sinclair was busy thanking Den, Ren slowly walked around the office, pretending to admire the decor. Her sharp eyes scanned the access codes taped behind a desk calendar and noted secret memos lying open.
Through her earrings—which were actually hidden microphones—every conversation and visual detail was transmitted directly to the headquarters.
In Sector 7, **Rion** listened to every word. He sat before the monitors, watching Sinclair fall completely into their grasp. Sinclair had no idea that the man he considered a "shadow leader" (Rion) was actually the one behind the woman who had just given him coffee.
"He's in the trap," Rion whispered. "Mia, use Den's newly confirmed public authority to breach the Central Bank servers tonight. Use the police VIP channels."
Ren glanced at the surveillance camera in the corner and gave a thin smile that only Rion understood. She had successfully tamed the police lion with nothing more than a cup of coffee and a "Father."