In the days following the memorial service, the rhythm of work at the Central Investigation Bureau's East Branch resumed. The magical lamps glowed all night long, and the crisp rustle of paper and tense discussions replaced the clang of weapons and battle commands. While the chaos on Aerion's streets had subsided thanks to the intervention of the Celestial Accord and the Zephyros army , the real battle for Chief Investigator Ragley and his subordinates, including Brena and Henry, had just begun.

Leaving the brutal battlefield, where blood and fire had mingled, they were thrust onto a new, silent, but no less important front: the front of the case files, where every report and every statistic represented the sorrow and loss of Aerion.

The Celestial Accord, after striking a devastating blow to the dark guilds that were plaguing Zephyros, continued to send thick case files and important intelligence reports to the Bureau's headquarters.

These included long lists of captured individuals who needed thorough interrogation, the locations of criminal dens that had been dismantled and required further investigation for any remaining clues, and dark magical artifacts that had been confiscated and needed to be carefully analyzed and sealed by experts.

Every line of text, every small detail in those files, was a burden and a responsibility that weighed heavily on the shoulders of the remaining members of the East Branch's Investigation Bureau, a force that had suffered heavy personnel losses in the recent attack.

Henry walked into the office and for a moment, he barely recognized his commander. Chief Ragley was still seated straight-backed behind his oak desk, but the aura of a Rank 5 powerhouse seemed to have been swallowed by the shadows of exhaustion.

His eyes were bloodshot, crisscrossed with veins, and the dark circles under his eyes were deep. When he looked up, Henry saw that the wrinkles on his forehead seemed to have become deeper, like cracks in a stone statue about to shatter. This was no longer just exhaustion but a spiritual erosion.

He was almost always holed up in his office, surrounded by stacks of yellowed parchment and maps filled with secret markings, trying to piece together scattered information and seemingly meaningless clues.

He hoped to find a pattern, a hidden plan behind the chaos that had swept through the city. He had to face the Zephyros Supreme Council, explain the heavy losses the Bureau had suffered, and propose viable solutions to restore security and order to a city that was panicked and terrified. Every decision he made at this moment could affect the fate of thousands, even tens of thousands of people, and the weight of that responsibility seemed to make his shoulders slump, as if he were about to collapse.

He remembered the other elite investigators who had bravely fallen, the people he couldn't protect. He tried to hide that grief behind the stern facade of a commander. But Henry, during the rare times he was summoned to Ragley's office to report on his work, could still feel the profound weariness and gnawing torment hidden beneath the resolute, decisive voice of his respected chief.

Brena was no different. She threw herself into her work with a frenzied intensity, trying to use busyness to fill the void of grief and loss in her soul.

Henry noticed that Brena almost never left her desk. Her fifth cup of coffee for the day had gone cold, but she didn't seem to notice. Her hands moved across the parchments with mechanical precision, but her sea-blue eyes were empty and hollow.

Sometimes, her writing hand would freeze in mid-air for a few seconds, her eyes staring blankly at a spot on the stone wall. Then she would shake her head slightly and continue her work as if nothing had happened. Her professional facade was perfect, but those brief moments of "stillness" were the truth.

Yet, sometimes, in those rare moments when she was alone in her office amidst mountains of case files, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, her eyes would look into the distance, as if searching for something she had lost.

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The image of Ragley tormented by the grief of losing his wife years ago, the image of little Luna, innocent and lacking a mother's love, and the haunting memories of her own past, full of humiliation and pain, all came back to haunt her.

She wondered if all their efforts, all their sacrifices, were truly bringing peace and justice to those who had fallen, or if they were just futile attempts in a world that was already filled with violence and injustice, a world where darkness always seemed to be lurking to conquer the light.

Henry and Sophia, during their visits to the Bureau for administrative procedures or to provide more information for ongoing investigations, also clearly felt the heavy, tense atmosphere and the profound exhaustion that hung over the place. Henry, with his special Mystic Sense, even though he could no longer feel the flow of the Lifestream, could still sense the negative energy and psychological pressure weighing on Ragley and Brena.

He wanted to help, to share their burden, but he also knew that, as a low-ranking investigator who had just transferred and was also dealing with his own problems, the best thing he could do was to complete his assigned tasks diligently and not cause any more trouble for his already weary superiors.

With her natural sensitivity and compassion, Sophia easily saw the deep exhaustion in Brena's eyes and the loneliness hidden behind her cold, distant demeanor. She often tried to start conversations with Brena, asking about her work and sharing small, everyday stories, trying to bring a little warmth and genuine companionship to her new friend, with whom she felt an odd sense of connection.

"Brena, you look so tired and pale," Sophia said gently one day when they happened to meet in the Bureau's hallway, as Brena was rushing with a tall stack of files to Ragley's office. "The work at the Bureau must be very hard and stressful, right? You have to take care of yourself and not overwork."

Brena stopped and turned to look at Sophia. A faint, strained smile appeared on her thin lips. "Thank you for your concern, Sophia. It's nothing major. It's just... there's so much work to do, and so many responsibilities to bear at this time." But in her eyes, Sophia saw a silent gratitude, a rare warmth at receiving genuine concern from a friend.

Once, Henry was assigned by Chief Ragley to assist Brena in reorganizing the archive of old case files, a seemingly tedious but important task. In the midst of thousands of yellowed parchments and the musty smell of old ink and dust, they worked in a stifling silence, broken only by the rustle of papers.

Each was lost in their own thoughts. Henry observed Brena's dedication, the way she carefully turned each page of the fragile parchments, the way she meticulously noted down important information, and the intense concentration in her eyes. He realized that behind her cold, distant exterior was a woman who was dedicated, responsible, and had a remarkable perseverance.

"This work... it doesn't seem easy at all," Henry said, breaking the oppressive silence. Brena looked up from the old files, slightly surprised by his sudden words. "Every job has its own difficulties, Henry. The important thing is how we choose to face them."

"But... looking at you and Chief Ragley..." Henry hesitated, then continued, "I feel like you two are carrying too much responsibility and pressure, especially after everything that's happened..."

Brena sighed, a sound filled with weariness and a hint of resignation. She placed the half-read parchment down on the old oak table. "That is our responsibility, Henry. When others have fallen and not many are left to bear the burden, those who are still standing, no matter how tired they are, must carry their share of the work. Ragley... he has lost too much in his life. No one can truly understand his pain. But he is still here, still fighting. For the peace of Aerion. For the future of Luna, his precious little daughter. I'm the same. I have my own reasons to keep fighting, not to allow myself to fall.".

There was an unshakable determination in her voice, but Henry could also sense the sadness and loneliness hidden behind it. That brief conversation, in the quiet and somber atmosphere of the archives, helped Henry understand Brena and Ragley much better, and the silent burdens they carried every day.

He realized that behind every seemingly cold decision and every seemingly emotionless action lay silent sacrifice and difficult choices that not everyone could understand. The Investigation Bureau, for them, was not just a workplace; it was a real battlefield.

It was a place where they had to fight tirelessly against darkness and evil forces, with all their intelligence, courage, and perseverance, and with all the scars that would never heal in their hearts.

And perhaps, it was in the silent sharing of those burdens, in the unspoken understanding and empathy, that a special bond, a friendship, was slowly forming and growing between these people who seemed so different and distant from each other.

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