Christopher came to the police station. He wanted to find out what that ring meant as quickly as possible. Although he suspected that it might be related to Sebastian's enemy, he wanted to confirm it. He sat rigidly at a battered desk, his impatience evident in the tapping of his fingers.
Behind the desk, a disinterested police officer in a worn uniform leaned back in his creaky chair, his eyes barely registering Christopher's presence. Papers were scattered haphazardly, and the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the distant echoes of past frustrations.
The officer's words were disappointing. "Mr. Sherman, you are thinking too much. That man was merely a cleaning staff. Of course, he had a criminal background but was not a member of any underworld gang."
