As the cab pulled up to their destination, Iyaan’s gaze remained fixed on the passing cityscape outside the window, the blur of lights and streets reflected in his eyes. Meanwhile, Izwan sat beside him, head leaned back, eyes closed as if in deep thought or simply enjoying the brief moment of quiet. When the cab came to a halt, Iyaan reached for his wallet, but Izwan beat him to it, handing a handful of cash to the driver before Iyaan could say a word.

"Why did you pay?" Iyaan’s voice was laced with annoyance, his brows furrowing. He hated owing anyone anything. He fumbled with his wallet, ready to reimburse Izwan for the fare.

Izwan, however, didn’t reply. He pushed open the door and stepped out of the cab without looking back, heading straight toward the building entrance. Iyaan scowled, quickly following after him, his strides faster as he jogged to catch up. "Hey! How much did you pay him? I’ll pay you back," Iyaan insisted, but Izwan continued walking as if he hadn’t heard a word.

They reached the elevator, and Izwan pressed the button, still silent. Iyaan caught up just as the elevator doors slid open. "Hey! I said I’ll pay you back!" Iyaan called out, stepping closer. Izwan entered the elevator, expecting Iyaan to stay behind like he usually did. But to his surprise, Iyaan, in his irritation, stepped in just before the doors closed, too focused on settling the payment to notice where he was.

The elevator jolted to life, beginning its ascent. "Why did you even get in?" Izwan asked, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the elevator.

Iyaan blinked, suddenly realizing where he was. His heart sank as the familiar claustrophobic sensation crept up on him. Oh no. He backed up, pressing against the shining metal wall, his breath hitching. The confined space, the subtle vibration of the moving elevator, the faint hum—everything triggered the old memories. Alya’s screams echoed in his mind, and the terrifying grind of a chainsaw followed, filling his thoughts with darkness. His vision blurred, and his legs gave way.

Izwan’s eyes widened as Iyaan suddenly slumped to the floor. "Hey! Officer Iyaan!" Izwan shouted, immediately crouching beside him. He grabbed Iyaan’s shoulders, shaking him gently, but Iyaan’s face had already gone pale, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Iyaan’s hands gripped the floor, trembling uncontrollably. His breathing came out in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to stay conscious. His lips quivered, but no words came out. The trauma he had been carrying for years now, the very reason he avoided elevators at all costs, was overwhelming him. Every time he entered an elevator, it all came rushing back—the screams, the chainsaw, the blood, Alya’s terrified face.

"Hey! Iyaan, snap out of it!" Izwan cupped Iyaan’s face in his hands, forcing him to look up. Iyaan’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears, the fear and anguish in them cutting through Izwan’s tough exterior.

Izwan’s voice softened, his grip firm but comforting. "Look at me. Don’t think about anything else. Just look at me." He held Iyaan’s gaze, refusing to let him sink deeper into his panic.

Tears began to spill down Iyaan’s cheeks, his breaths coming in short, uneven bursts. The walls of the elevator seemed to be closing in, suffocating him, but Izwan’s voice was the only thing anchoring him to the present. "Focus, Iyaan. Focus on me," Izwan urged, his hands steady as he held Iyaan’s face.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Izwan remained on one knee, still gripping Iyaan’s face, unwilling to risk getting up to stop the elevator. If he did, Iyaan might collapse completely, and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Instead, he stayed there, keeping Iyaan grounded with his presence.

Then, in a low voice, Izwan whispered, "Breathe, Iyaan. In and out. Slowly." He gently patted Iyaan’s back, his hand moving in slow, rhythmic motions, trying to soothe him.

Iyaan closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on Izwan’s voice. He inhaled shakily, then exhaled, following Izwan’s instructions. Slowly, the chaotic memories began to fade, replaced by the steady sound of his own breathing. Izwan’s touch was steady, grounding him in the present.

"I paid the cab driver twenty-five ringgit," Izwan suddenly said, still not pulling out of the embrace.

Iyaan’s eyes flew open, his thoughts derailing from the trauma for a split second. "What?!" He blinked, confused.

"Twenty-five," Izwan repeated, his tone calm but deliberate.

Iyaan furrowed his brows, his distress momentarily forgotten. "Twenty-five? That’s a rip-off! You should’ve only paid fifteen, maybe sixteen, max!" His voice was still shaky, but the familiar irritation crept back in. "Seriously, Izwan, you need to be smarter with your money. We came there because of me! I should’ve paid the fare, not you. And you overpaid on top of that? What are you thinking?"

Izwan bit back a grin as he listened to Iyaan’s scolding. The plan had worked—he had distracted him from the worst of his panic. Iyaan continued to rant about cab fares, budgeting, and unnecessary expenses, his voice becoming stronger with each word, until finally, the elevator dinged, signaling their arrival.

Izwan stood up, offering his hand to Iyaan, who still looked a bit pale but was back on his feet. As the doors slid open, Iyaan glanced at Izwan nervously. "Please, no bodies. Please, let there be no one dead," he muttered under his breath, his eyes wide with residual fear.

Izwan’s stomach churned at the visible pain in Iyaan’s expression. This wasn’t just a simple fear of elevators—this was something much deeper, a scar from a trauma that hadn’t healed. Izwan stepped out first, cautiously surveying the office floor for the sake of Iyaan. It was quiet—nothing out of the ordinary.

He turned back to Iyaan, who stood frozen at the threshold of the elevator. Izwan reached out his hand again, his voice soft. "Come on. It’s just the office, nothing more."

Iyaan hesitated, his body still trembling slightly. But when he saw the calm in Izwan’s eyes, he took his hand and stepped out of the elevator. They were greeted by the familiar sight of their work desks, the soft hum of air conditioning filling the quiet space. But for Iyaan, the hospital incident was still fresh in his mind, the weight of it pressing heavily on his chest.

Izwan gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. "You’re safe," he said quietly, as they both stood side by side in the dimly lit office. Iyaan nodded, though the haunted look in his eyes remained.

Iyaan stood still for a moment, trying to shake off the lingering effects of his episode. His breathing steadied as he closed his eyes, forcing himself to exhale deeply. The terror that had gripped him moments before was finally loosening its hold. He opened his eyes and blinked away the last remnants of the vivid memories that haunted him. The familiar sight of the office brought a sense of calm, though faint. There was nothing but the low hum of the fluorescent lights and the quiet buzz of computers. The entire floor was deserted except for him and Izwan.

Just as Iyaan turned towards his desk, ready to settle into work and push the elevator incident to the back of his mind, Izwan’s voice interrupted the quiet.

"You should stop meeting Tenuk Megat."

Iyaan froze mid-step, his back still facing Izwan. His jaw clenched, the tension rolling back into his shoulders as he turned sharply to glare at his colleague. His eyes darkened, a silent warning in them. "I'm thankful for your help, I really am," he said, his voice tight, his gratitude strained under the frustration rising within him. "But you should stay out of my business, Officer Izwan Harith." Without waiting for a response, Iyaan turned back and strode over to his desk, pulling out his chair and sinking into it with a heavy thud.

Izwan watched him, unaffected by the harsh response. He knew Iyaan’s temper well enough by now, and he knew when to push and when to pull back. Sitting at his own desk, which was right next to Iyaan’s, Izwan casually turned on his laptop, letting the familiar hum of the machine fill the silence between them. After a few clicks, he spoke again, almost nonchalantly, "I didn’t pay him twenty-five ringgit. It was sixteen."

Iyaan’s hands hovered over his keyboard for a moment, his fingers pausing as Izwan’s words registered. Though he didn’t respond, Izwan knew Iyaan had heard him, and he could almost sense the relief from across the desk although they were kept apart by the divider between their desks. Being scammed, especially for money, was something that Iyaan hated more than anything. Even if he wouldn't admit it, the fact that he hadn’t been overcharged gave him some peace of mind.

Iyaan finally resumed typing, his focus shifting to the screen in front of him, but his body had noticeably relaxed. Izwan returned his attention to his own work, the silence between them now more comfortable than it had been moments ago.

The quiet was abruptly interrupted by the familiar ding of the elevator. Both Iyaan and Izwan looked up from their desks as the doors slid open. A tall figure stepped out—Johan. His presence was commanding, and as soon as the two officers saw him, they immediately stood up, a sign of respect that came almost instinctively.

"Good evening, sir," they greeted in unison, their voices steady as they straightened their posture.

Johan gave them a brief nod as he approached, his footsteps echoing softly in the otherwise empty office. He came to a stop directly in front of them, his gaze shifting between the two. "Iyaan. Izwan," he began, his tone businesslike, getting straight to the point. "Effective immediately, the both of you will be assigned to the murder case we discussed during the interview. You’ll be on this full-time until it’s solved. All your other cases will be reassigned to the junior officers."

He handed a file to each of them. The weight of the case felt tangible as the thick folder exchanged hands, the gravity of their new assignment hanging in the air.

"This is priority one," Johan added firmly, making sure they understood the importance of the task ahead. "I trust you both to handle it." With that, he gave them another nod and turned on his heel, heading back toward the elevator. The doors opened with a soft chime, and Johan stepped inside without another word. The doors closed behind him, and the familiar hum of the elevator signaled his departure to the fifth floor, where his office was located.

As the quiet returned to the room, Iyaan sat back down in his chair, the squeak of the swiveling seat cutting through the silence. He pulled himself closer to his desk, his eyes already scanning the first few pages of the file Johan had handed him. His fingers traced over the typed reports, his mind quickly processing the information.

Each page detailed the grisly deaths of the victims, from the earliest to the most recent. Every piece of evidence, every statement, and every autopsy report had been meticulously recorded. Iyaan’s expression darkened as he flipped through the pages, absorbing the brutal reality of the case they had been tasked with.

This was it. After years of chasing leads and piecing together fragments of the puzzle, he was finally given full control of the murder case he'd been so eagerly waiting on. Now, the pressure was on him to solve it and bring the killer, Nur, to justice.

Iyaan’s mind whirled with a mix of determination and unease. This is my shot to catch Nur for good, he thought, glancing at the detailed images of the crime scenes. The patterns were there, the connections waiting to be uncovered. He could feel the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders, but it was also what drove him—what pushed him to keep going, no matter the cost.

Across the desk, Izwan had also begun reviewing the file, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a sharp focus. Both men were silent, absorbed in the magnitude of what lay ahead. The air in the room felt heavy with the anticipation of what their next moves would be.