The room was filled with ornate cabinets, gleaming like hidden treasures of a royal vault. Hamad and Usuf moved toward them, sharp-eyed like hunters eager for prey.

Meanwhile, Salih’s curious gaze wandered. In another corner of the room, he noticed a mysterious door. An unstoppable curiosity pulled him forward. He stepped through and discovered—a grand kitchen, lavish and splendid, like the royal kitchen of a palace.

After a long while, Usuf suddenly noticed with sharp eyes that Salih was not in the room. A shadow of worry passed over his face. He stepped quietly toward the kitchen to look for him.

The moment he entered, Usuf froze—utterly stunned, as if he had walked into a miracle.

Right before his eyes, Salih was sitting comfortably, enjoying a bowl of thick, snow-white yogurt. On his handsome face, streaks of yogurt clung to his lips, his eyes glowed with bliss, and at the corner of his mouth danced a smile so serene it seemed as if he had tasted every joy the world could offer.

Seeing this, Usuf’s lips curved into a gentle smile. He said nothing—unwilling to shatter the sweetness of the moment—and silently left the room.

After some more bites of delicious food, Salih returned to the room satisfied, perhaps for the first time in a long while.

By then, Hamad and Usuf were still busy stuffing their precious documents into sacks. Having nothing special to do, Salih went to rest on an old wooden chair in the corner of the room. But the instant he sat down, the chair gave a faint, sharp creak—a warning, almost like an omen.

Salih glanced around, confused, but noticing nothing unusual, he ignored the sound and sat down harder. In the next moment, with a harsh, cracking roar, the chair shattered beneath him. Salih collapsed into the heap of splintered wood.

Both Hamad and Usuf stopped their frantic search and turned at the noise. Their jaws dropped. Their eyes widened in disbelief. There lay Salih, sprawled awkwardly across the broken chair, limbs askew like a torn puppet.

Hamad’s whole body began to tremble with fury—like a volcano about to erupt. His face twisted with rage, his burning eyes locked on Salih. With a violent gesture, he ordered him to stay down exactly as he had fallen.

Usuf hurried to the door and stood watch, pressing his ear against the frame to catch the faintest sound. His heart hammered wildly inside his chest.

The silence that followed was the silence of a graveyard. The entire world seemed frozen. The three of them felt their hearts pound faster and faster, beating like drums inside their ribs.

Ten long minutes crawled by. Nothing. No footsteps, no whispers, no sign of anyone approaching. Finally, Usuf let out a breath of relief and helped Salih up from the ruins of the broken chair.

Then Hamad growled in a deep, harsh voice, like a lion cornered in the dark. His eyes still blazing, he commanded:

“You will stand straight. Not a single movement.”

Salih stood frozen, caught like a shadow trembling in the dark. His eyes flickered with embarrassment, but deep inside, a strange unease coiled within him. The air itself had grown heavy—thick with the smell of old wood, damp paper, and somewhere faintly, the metallic tang of iron.

Usuf kept glancing out the cracks of the window, searching the dark corridor beyond for the slightest hint of movement. Hamad’s gaze was unshaken, sharp as a lion’s, yet in his eyes there was the faint pull of urgency—he knew time was slipping away.

Somewhere far off, a sound stirred, then slowly faded. The silence deepened, so thick that every breath, every heartbeat, seemed to echo in the room.

The moon slid behind the clouds. Through the window, a single beam of silver light fell across the floor, cutting the room into two halves—an invisible boundary of light and shadow.

Salih stood right at its edge, caught between brightness and darkness, steadying himself.

Usuf’s hands moved quickly, stuffing more papers into the sack, though his ears strained for every whisper around them.

Hamad moved slowly toward the door, gripping the handle of his shovel tighter and tighter.

Suddenly, the wind from the jungle rushed through the cracks of the window. Silent as a flame, it swept across the room, rattling loose pages and nudging an old shutter until it creaked on its hinges.

From now on, every sound, every movement, could be the last.