In this world full of humans with egos, survival is a game; they build their pride like glass towers—fragile, transparent, and sharp to anyone who dares point out the cracks.
As the police investigated Yun Hee's death, it quickly became a widely discussed mystery, baffling anyone who sought to understand what had truly happened.
"We need the school's cooperation! How else will we know what actually took place?" the chief demanded, holding a microwave bag containing well-sealed evidence, each item carefully labeled.
The autopsy report was handed back to the chief and the captain. A forensic officer spoke up. "We found a new cell in her body, along with a period that contributed to her blood loss at the time of the fall," he explained.
Another officer leaned forward. "What if we question the student council president, Patricia—the mayor's daughter? Maybe she knows something we don't, or could lead us to students we should interview!"
A scoff cut through the tension. "You don't get to be involved in this," an officer snapped. "Patricia is already stressed out. Her rooster, Aizen, suddenly slipped free from his leash, and she needs him for tomorrow's cockfight. She doesn't have time for your half-baked theories."
Patricia walked into the police station with confidence—her head held high, her expression stern, showing no remorse toward those who had untied and freed her prized rooster.
She pulled out a bag of cash, offering it as ransom to anyone who could find her missing bird. "I just got out of class. I have so much on my plate right now, and I can't even focus on my missing rooster," she said firmly. "I hope this is enough money to ensure Aizen is found. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. He's important to me."
The officers glanced at her with mixed reactions—some exhaling sharply in exasperation, others stifling amused chuckles. Her dark, unfazed demeanor defined her presence.
"And here I was thinking you guys had leads on where she was…" Patricia's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Do you even take this seriously? She's not just a rooster—I need her for tomorrow's cockfight. She's not some random stray cat," she added with a defiant stance, determined to find her beloved bird.
The police took a chance, pressing Patricia with a question—though their tone was hesitant. They knew they needed any lead to bring justice to Yun Hee's grieving parents.
"Ehem!" The chief cleared his throat and stepped forward. Patricia raised an eyebrow silently, her stern eyes darting between the chief and the prosecutor, signaling them to continue.
The captain sighed heavily, his voice cutting through the air with the weight of his words. "I hope we're not bothering you, but if you're familiar with Yun Hee's death, her mother in Korea is seeking justice. She's grieving, desperate for answers, but it feels like the case is slipping away. My team is doing their best to gather leads, but the school is refusing to cooperate. We need your help. I'm hoping that with your involvement, we can bring the attention and justice this case deserves."
Patricia exhaled sharply, considering their plea. "Sure, why not?" she replied indifferently. "Just make sure, my rooster, now go!"
Before she could leave, a commotion broke out. The police arrested an old man who was pleading for his life, struggling against their grip.
As Patricia was about to walk away, the man lunged forward, hugging her waist and collapsing at her feet. "Patricia! I did nothing! Please free me! I'll vote for your mayor too!" he begged desperately.
The officers quickly dragged him into a cell. "Don't touch her!" one officer shouted, stepping between Patricia and the man, swiftly escorting her out of the station.
Flushed with embarrassment, the officers began apologizing."We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, ma'am. We assure you it won't happen again," one of them stammered.
Patricia raised her hand slightly, signaling them to stop. "It's okay. I get it," she said calmly, walking toward her car.
Sliding into the driver's seat, she buckled up, her expression composed with a subtle smile. "You good, Goldy?" she asked, glancing at her Labrador in the passenger seat. The dog panted happily, wearing sunglasses, his tongue lolling out in contentment.
Satisfied, Patricia shifted the gearstick and turned the key."Okay, let's take this statue to Mrs. Myrna." She cranked the engine, rolling the windows down before taking off.
As Patricia drove the statue back to Myrna's house, she took slow, deliberate breaths, replaying the events at the police station in her mind: the old man's desperate pleas, the police's unresolved investigation, and their embarrassed apologies.
She wondered whether the money she had offered was worth it—just for the sake of finding her lost rooster.
She drove down the crooked path, stray dogs wandered aimlessly, shop logos became visible and recognizable, and groups of students waited for transportation while others chatted on the sidewalks. Power lines crisscrossed the sky, adding to the tangled, urban atmosphere.
The sun cast a hazy glow over the distant hills, creating a scene of mundane provincial life, contrasting with the lively streets and the urban sprawl beyond.
Patricia continued driving, keeping her focus on the street signs and stoplights, ensuring she could roam the barrio without getting caught for underage driving with only her student license.
Suddenly, at a checkpoint, a police officer signaled her to stop. She pulled over and grinned apologetically, sliding down her window."Do you need anything, sir?" she asked casually.
The officer glanced at the bubble-wrapped statue in the back seat and chuckled at the dog's comically serious expression behind its sunglasses. "Can I see your license, ma'am?" he asked.
Patricia smiled and handed him her student license without hesitation.
Noticing the statue, the officer grew curious."Is that for Madam Myrna? I heard she's donating it to the church," he said.
Patricia nodded politely. "Yes, that's why I'm delivering it to her today. It's bubble-wrapped and sealed for protection. Do you know which street she lives on?"
The officer pointed toward a nearby street sign. Patricia gave a composed nod and drove off, her demeanor calm and unfazed.
Upon arriving, she parked her car in front of Myrna's house. One of Myrna's sons came out and carefully unloaded the statue, signing the delivery form.
"Mom's at Zumba today, so she can't meet you," he explained, handing Patricia a water billing envelope filled with cash. "She told me to give you this," he added.
Patricia accepted the payment without hesitation. "Yeah, sure. Thanks!" she said with a slight smirk, pocketing the envelope before heading back to her car.