The woman sat on the couch while observing the walls of PPDKB, filled with the office’s Vision, Mission, and a list of past District Education Officers.

She could not stay still for long.

Turning to the counter staff, she initiated a conversation.

“May I know what the culture is like here, Madam Siti?”

The sunlight reflected softly on her nametag.

IZHAN

The chubby lady in a pastel hijab pushed her glasses up.

The young intern’s question seemed to intrigue her.

“Our days are quite unpredictable. Some days are relaxed. Some days are hectic.”

Izhan tilted her head.

“So… what does your routine usually look like?”

“Oh, me?” Madam Siti adjusted her seat.

“People usually come through me first.”

She pointed lightly at the counter.

“Most of the time, they ask for certificate verification or school transfer matters.”

She paused.

“However,… lately, they come with problems.”

Izhan raised an eyebrow.

“Problems?”

Siti let out a small sigh.

“Complaints.”

She gave a small smile.

“Don’t panic if you see clients leaving PPD looking stressed.”

Heavy footsteps echoed through Block A.

Krishna and Rozman had just returned from SK Kimo.

Krishna stopped.

His eyes landed on the petite intern sitting at the waiting area.

Izhan frowned slightly.

Why was this man looking at her with that much excitement?

Behind him, Rozman leaned slightly toward Siti and whispered—

“Boss did it again.”

Krishna grinned.

“Welcome to PPDKB, Izhan!”

He spread his arms dramatically.

Izhan awkwardly replied,

“Thank you, Mr DEO.”

Rozman raised an eyebrow.

That reaction was unusual.

Most interns either became nervous or overly formal around Krishna.

This one looked… familiar.

Before he could think further, Izhan stepped forward.

She handed over her offer letter from JPNS along with her university internship documents to Krishna.

Krishna went through the documents.

English Linguistics.

He thought for a while.

Where should he place her?

“What’s your minor?”

“Applied Linguistics,” Izhan replied. “But I’m more into interpretation and translation.”

Krishna looked up.

“Cool. You’re multilingual.”

Izhan nodded.

“And… I’m enthusiastic about forensic linguistics.”

A brief silence followed.

Krishna stopped flipping the pages.

Rozman looked at her.

Something shifted.

Krishna smiled.

“Well.”

He closed the file.

“That’s interesting.”

Krishna invited both into his office.

He switched on the lights and the air conditioner.

The room came alive again.

Blue glossy surfaces, wooden parquet flooring, neat shelves—premium without being excessive.

Krishna walked to his desk and sat down.

“Have a seat, both of you.”

Rozman and Izhan took theirs.

For a moment, Izhan quietly scanned the room.

Her eyes stopped.

A locked vault stood at the corner.

She looked away.

Then looked back.

Too quickly.

“Izhan, your supervisor will be Rozman, my assistant.”

Rozman gave a polite nod.

“Nice to meet you, Izhan.”

Krishna continued.

“You’ll be placed under the Education Planning Sector. Rozman is one of the members there.”

He paused.

“It’s a small sector.”

He counted with his fingers.

“My deputy, Iskandar… and Rozman.”

Then he leaned back slightly.

“But despite the size, it is one of the most critical sectors in this organisation.”

Rozman took over the explanation.

“Our sector specialises in strategic education planning,” he said.

He continued more calmly.

“We develop long-term education strategies aligned with KPM’s national plans. We coordinate transformation initiatives at the district level, manage budgeting based on outcome-based frameworks, and oversee enrolment, teacher allocation, and school capacity planning.”

He glanced briefly at Izhan.

“We also maintain centralised data systems, coordinate development projects, manage school openings and relocations, and ensure compliance with audits and quality standards.”

A short pause.

“In simpler terms… we deal with almost everything that shapes how the education system runs before it reaches schools.”

Izhan tilted her head slightly.

“Even complaints management?”

Rozman gave a small nod.

“Yes. That too.”

He smiled faintly.

“You catch on fast.”

Izhan didn’t respond immediately.

She had only just learned about it a short while ago.

“Excuse us, sir. I would like to brief her in my office. Thank you.”

Rozman stood up, followed by Izhan.

They walked out of Krishna’s office together.

Rozman closed the door behind them.

His office was quieter than Krishna’s—functional, organised, almost minimal.

He placed a few printed SISPAA complaint summaries on the table.

“Read this,” he said simply.

Izhan sat down and took the papers.

There were three cases. Similar categories. Different wording.

She scanned them slowly.

Rozman watched her without speaking.

After a moment, her eyes paused.

Then shifted to the second page.

She tilted her head slightly.

“Interesting,” she said quietly.

Rozman didn’t respond.

“What is it?” he asked instead.

Izhan tapped the first and third document lightly.

“The complaints describe the same issue,” she said. “But the emotional framing is inconsistent.”

Rozman raised an eyebrow.

“Explain.”

She hesitated briefly.

“This one sounds structured. Almost formal. But this one—” she pointed— “has more emotional escalation. It feels… externally influenced.”

Silence.

Rozman leaned back slightly.

“…Good observation.”

He slid another file toward her.

“Then classify them.”

Izhan noticed Rozman’s coloured stickers on the files—labels indicating whether cases were synchronised, unrelated, or still under review.

It reminded her of something familiar: how teachers trained students to identify factual consistency in reading comprehension tasks.

She leaned forward slightly and began sorting through the SISPAA reports more carefully.

Sentence structures. Registers. Tone.

She noted the patterns in silence.

Some complaints were formal and structured. Others shifted in emotional intensity. A few showed similar phrasing patterns despite different contexts.

Rozman looked at her work for a moment longer.

“You’re not just reading content,” he said calmly. “You’re reading structure. That’s useful.”

He paused, then slid the files back into alignment.

“That’s a pattern worth keeping an eye on.”

“Shall we present it to the boss?”

Rozman reviewed her notes once more, ensuring the classification and observations were consistent and defensible for escalation.

Izhan rolled her shoulder lightly, easing the tension from the sorting process.

“Still… these are only surface-level indicators,” she said.

Rozman glanced at her.

He did not disagree.

The intern was observant—and reflective.

“Then let’s see what he makes of it.”

In the office, Krishna was arranging his reports for JPNS.

But his attention drifted briefly.

The vault.

Izhan had noticed it earlier.

Normally, he would have covered it with a cloth. It was part of his routine—something deliberate, controlled.

Today, he didn’t.

A small pause.

He exhaled lightly.

“Can’t help it if she noticed it,” he thought.

Knock knock.

Krishna closed the vault just as the door opened.

“Come in.”

Rozman and Izhan entered.

“Sir, we have a new finding.”

Rozman placed the SISPAA report on Krishna’s table.

Krishna adjusted his glasses. His blue fringe fell slightly over his forehead as he began reading.

The room fell quiet.

After a moment, he spoke.

“The reports make sense now.”

Rozman glanced at Izhan.

“She did it. I only supervised.”

“Yes, sir,” Izhan said, a hint of excitement in her voice.

“The entries were more structured than usual,” she added. “Chronological alignment and synchronised phrasing with the complainant statements.”

Krishna looked at the report for a moment longer.

Then he leaned back slightly.

“Then you’ve already seen more than I expected.”

“Your presence means a lot here, Izhan,” Rozman said.

“A valuable asset,” Krishna added.

Izhan scratched her forehead, slightly confused by the praise.

“I was just doing my job. Thank you.”

Then she hesitated.

“Also… I noticed something in the report.”

Both men looked at her.

“Why do these cases feel like they point to something larger? The ones I classified.”

She flipped through her notes mentally.

“Teacher absenteeism… the word ‘absent’ appears too frequently across different reports. Same register. Same framing.”

Krishna stood up and lightly patted her shoulder.

“You’re quite intense for your first day.”

He glanced at Rozman.

“Let’s take a break. The three of us.”

Rozman noticed it too.

Izhan’s observation wasn’t something a first-day intern usually produced so quickly—and certainly not in that direction.

Izhan paused for a moment, then nodded.

“…Yes, sir.”

The trio went to the pantry with their lunch boxes.

Izhan opened hers first—tempura shrimp balls, onigiri, and shredded cabbage, neatly packed. A bottle of green tea sat beside it.

“My turn,” Rozman said.

He revealed his meal: laksam, topped with sliced cucumbers and chillies, the thick white noodles carefully arranged.

Izhan looked at it.

“Did your wife cook this?” she asked lightly.

Rozman paused for a brief moment.

Then he chuckled.

“I made it myself,” he said. “Ever since she passed away two years ago.”

A quiet silence followed.

Izhan lowered her gaze slightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Rozman only nodded once.

Krishna then placed his lunch on the table—chicken chop with black pepper sauce, neatly portioned.

A simple meal, but intentionally prepared.

Before the atmosphere could settle further, Siti entered the pantry with Deputy DEO Iskandar.

“Don’t start the feast without us,” Iskandar said.

After finishing their lunches, Rozman leaned back slightly.

“Say, Izhan… want to see how SISPAA operates?”

Izhan paused.

“Is that allowed? I thought it might be restricted information.”

“Sign the Akta 88 acknowledgement,” Rozman said, “and you’ll be part of the system’s workflow.”

Izhan signed the document after reading it carefully.

Rozman took it back and gave a small nod.

“That’s done.”

Rozman sent a Microsoft Word template to Izhan via Telegram.

“You won’t be accessing SISPAA directly yet.”

Izhan looked at the document.

It was a structured complaint entry form.

Fields. Sections. Categorisation boxes.

“You’ll start with this,” Rozman said.
“Key in the complainant statements and OYD responses. Keep it accurate. Keep it structured.”

Izhan nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Rozman watched as Izhan opened the file on her phone.

“This is your first layer of work,” he said calmly.

He leaned slightly forward.

“Don’t treat it as simple data entry.”

A pause.

“This is where every case begins before it reaches SISPAA.”