With expertise and a clear understanding of her work, the young woman, about 29 years old, continued presenting information, pointing to a whiteboard illuminated by a projector light. Even without being told, one could easily discern that they were in a room dedicated to investigating major crimes, especially those involving murder, rape, kidnapping, and other serious offenses.

The projector displayed an image of a young man lying on the ground, seemingly lifeless. The area was cordoned off with a long yellow tape, on which the words "Restricted Area" were written in bold black letters.

The young woman, staring intently at the image projected in front of them, leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes as she examined the scene. Slowly, she articulated, "He held the gun in his left hand. Given the direction the gun is pointed, the bullet shouldn't have hit his chest directly; it should have pierced his ribs before entering his chest if the shot was fired from the hand the gun was found in."

A young man, approximately 32 years old, approached her. He was also an investigator, part of the team sitting in the modest investigation hall. With his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he looked at the image and said, "Well done, Agent Maleeka. But let's not jump to conclusions. Don't you think if the man was left-handed, he could have angled his hand so the bullet would strike directly into his chest?"

Maleeka turned to look at him before slightly pursing her lips and saying, "I'm not sure, Inspector Assad... but that's what I think."

Before she could finish, a voice interrupted, saying, "Oh, shut up!"

They all turned to look at him. Since entering the room, he had kept his head down, fiddling with a ring on his finger—something he often did, especially when deep in thought about an investigation.

He looked up at them, and his gaze made her feel disoriented, as if all her thoughts were jumbled. He then said, "Are you thinking, or are you certain?"

She couldn't respond, instead looking down at the floor.

With both hands in the pockets of his jeans, he stood in front of her, the height difference allowing him to see the top of her head. His voice, soft yet commanding, had a way of making her lose her composure. He began, "We are investigating a murder here, in case you forgot. There's no room for guessing; everything must be known. You need to be certain. I want results, not assumptions. Do you understand?" He finished, leaning closer to her face, his intense eyes meeting hers and unsettling her even more.