It was 6:30 a.m.

Only Block A was lit.

The corridor remained silent—the steady hum of the air conditioner filling the space.

Inside the District Education Officer’s room, faint typing broke the stillness.

Several tabs were open across the browser.

HRMIS.
E-Operasi.
SPLKPM.
SISPAA.
Gmail.

On the Gmail tab was an email that immediately caught his attention.

Dear DEO,

Sender: State Director.

Krishna’s sharp eyes scanned each line meticulously.

He was known for being the kind of person who thought about work first and everything else later.

Beside his keyboard sat a croissant and a cup of coffee.

Both untouched.

Covering 66 schools across the district was not for the weak.

Every morning, Krishna made it a point to go through every issue that came in—the good and the bad.

There were invitations that required representation, reports waiting for decisions, and matters that could not be delayed.

But complaints were different.

Complaints had a way of making people question the reputation of the District Education Office.

He clicked open the latest records.

Two follow-up complaints.

One new complaint from yesterday.

Krishna finally reached for his coffee.

“Three cases before sunrise,” he muttered.

He worked through the remaining complaints one by one, answering each with proper justification.

Fortunately, both turned out to be baseless.

Parents were unhappy with the amount of homework given to their children.

Nothing unusual.

After a brief discussion over the phone with the respective headmasters, the cases were marked as resolved.

Krishna typed the final response and clicked Send.

From there, the matter would move upward—to the State Education Department, and if necessary, the Ministry.

His shoulders relaxed slightly.

Then his eyes shifted.

Across the room stood a steel vault.

Nothing extravagant.

A plain storage vault.

A small label was fixed to the front.

Krishna’s Vault.

His gaze stayed there for a second longer than necessary.

Then he looked away and opened the next email.

The next email appeared on his screen.

Subject: Internship Application: Response

It was from UPM.

The institution expressed appreciation that PPDKB had agreed to accept an intern for the upcoming placement period.

Krishna leaned back slightly.

A small smirk appeared.

“Another aid is coming.”

He closed the email.

The office had never really been designed for one person anyway.

Reports moved faster with extra hands.

School visits became easier.

Complaints got settled sooner.

And sometimes—

It helped to have more eyes looking at the same thing.

He took another sip of coffee and moved to the next tab.

It was 7:30 a.m.

Krishna stood up and carried his plate and cup to the pantry.

The office was beginning to wake.

A few lights had turned on. Footsteps echoed faintly along the corridor.

“Good morning, sir.”

The staff at the counter greeted him as he passed.

“Morning.”

He placed the cup under the tap.

Cold water ran across his hands.

For a moment, it cleared the thoughts that had been circling in his head since dawn.

Krishna had always believed that if something had to be done, it had to be done properly.

Not because it was easy.

Not because anyone was watching.

Simply because it was the right thing to do.

He rinsed the plate clean and placed it on the rack.

As Krishna walked back toward his room, the counter staff lowered her voice and turned to the clerk beside her.

“The boss was always wanted by JPNS.”

The clerk looked up.

“Why?”

She glanced toward the corridor to make sure he was already gone.

“He attracts cases.”

The clerk frowned.

“What do you mean?”

The staff shrugged.

“Usually the heavy ones. And always in big numbers.”

She paused for a moment before adding—

“I’ve worked here for years.”

Her eyes drifted toward the closed office door.

“But I’ve never seen this many visitors coming in and out of the office until he arrived.”

The two women remained at the counter for a while before business hours officially began at 8:00 a.m.

“That explains his early morning routine.”

The counter staff nudged her colleague lightly.

The clerk nodded.

“Yeah.”

She lowered her voice.

“He works hard to protect the district’s reputation.”

She paused.

“Some people say he treats complaints coldly.”

The clerk looked surprised.

“But that’s not true?”

The staff shook her head.

“Most of them are either baseless…”

Her expression shifted slightly.

“…or.”

The clerk waited.

The staff glanced toward Krishna’s office.

“When a complaint is actually based…”

She folded her arms.

“…that’s when things become heavy.”

The clerk stared.

“You sure know a lot.”

The counter staff smiled.

“You don’t survive front counter work without knowing things.”

Krishna stepped out with his mini briefcase in hand.

A faint grin lingered on his face—one that came only when he was about to deal with something he considered interesting.

This man did not just handle cases.

He treated them like movement.

Like direction.

Like something alive.

“Ladies, I’ll be away for a while,” he said, smiling as he passed the counter.

“Alright, boss. I’ve informed Bobo, the driver, to prepare your vehicle.”

He nodded and walked out of Block A toward Block B.

Behind him, the counter staff watched him disappear down the corridor.

“Is he always like that?” the clerk asked quietly.

The staff glanced after him.

“Yeah. Always with his trusty assistant.”

“They’re almost inseparable.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“No wonder the boss hasn’t met anyone yet.”

The clerk laughed softly.

“He had a few before.”

“They said he just never had luck.”

A pause.

“Or maybe he was just too tied up with work.”

“…or maybe the assistant,” the staff added under her breath.

The clerk immediately nudged her arm.

“Hey.”

They both laughed, keeping their voices low as the office slowly filled with morning movement.

Krishna called the headmaster of SK Kimo to inform him of his arrival.

On the phone, the headmaster’s voice was cautious.

“Alright, sir. I will have my people ready—”

“No, Headmaster.”

Krishna cut in gently.

“I want this to be casual. No formalities.”

A brief pause.

“I am interested in the case in real time,” he added, a faint grin forming.

There was silence on the other end.

“As you wish, Mr DEO.”

The line ended.

By the time Krishna reached Block B, Rozman was already waiting at the entrance.

Arms crossed, posture steady, his presence quiet but firm.

A faint mark on his left arm became visible as he shifted his stance.

“Are we going now, sir?” the middle-aged assistant DEO asked.

Krishna adjusted his briefcase.

“Let’s go. Another day, another—”

“—another adventure,” Rozman finished flatly.

He glanced at Krishna.

“You really do treat school visits like levels in a game.”

Krishna scratched lightly at his left ear, where a small earring sat discreetly—almost like a natural mark rather than an accessory.

“Some people deserve justice,” he said simply.

They headed toward the vehicle, briefcase in hand, already discussing the next plan.

The morning air outside Block B was beginning to warm as the district slowly came alive.

Krishna adjusted his grip on the briefcase.

His voice was steady.

“Do what is right…”

A pause.

“…even if it is difficult.”

Rozman glanced at him briefly, then nodded.

They got into the vehicle.

And it moved forward.