FRGL chapter 55

Luo Hai had worked at the Nantes Prosecutor’s Office for six years, yet he still couldn’t find the right word to describe the absurdity of his current situation.

The conference room was the same familiar room, occupied by the same familiar people.

Director Kliman still wore that perpetually dissatisfied frown, as if nothing ever met her standards. The other prosecutors still had that glazed-over look, prepared to let everything go in one ear and out the other.

The meeting topic remained unchanged—dealing with the recent surge in Alpha-related crimes, restoring public confidence, stabilizing the situation, and most importantly, wiping out the Lightwing Society once and for all to eliminate this dangerous social threat.

And yet, the central figure of this entire discussion stood at the back of the room, notebook and pen in hand, diligently recording every single word.

Doyle was dressed even more formally than usual. The somber tone of his coat cast a heavy atmosphere over the entire room, making it difficult to breathe.

“Eugene Oddis and his Lightwing Society have wreaked havoc not just in Nantes but across society as a whole,” Doyle stated, his gaze sweeping across the room before lingering—deliberately—on Luo Hai.

Luo Hai neither spoke nor looked away.

Truthfully, he wasn’t paying much attention to Doyle’s speech at all.

Because the presence of the man standing beside him, taking notes with such exaggerated seriousness, was simply too overwhelming.

Not only had Eugene altered his facial features with disguise, but he had also adjusted his height slightly using his shoes. He now stood even taller than Luo Hai remembered—like a wall of solid muscle, positioned right at his waist.

And his model-perfect, sculpted backside was practically in Luo Hai’s face.

Worse still, he would occasionally shift, subtly swaying his hips, brushing against Luo Hai’s desk as if completely oblivious to how ridiculous the whole scene looked.

The sheer absurdity of it all left Luo Hai at a complete loss for words.

“Flock, what’s the status of the Alphas causing disturbances outside the police station and the prosecutor’s office?” Doyle asked.

“They’ve been dealt with,” Flock replied quickly. “Those who needed to be detained were detained, those who needed to be reprimanded were reprimanded. There shouldn’t be any more incidents in the near future.”

“And what about the other violent cases?” Doyle continued.

“They’re being handled,” Barney answered. “But there are too many of them, so for now, we’re prioritizing arrests while figuring out how to classify some of the incidents…”

Doyle nodded. His expression gave nothing away—whether he was satisfied or not was impossible to tell. The room held its breath, waiting for his next words.

“The informant who leaked the stolen inhibitors case to the media—have we identified them?” Doyle asked slowly.

Luo Hai instinctively tightened his grip on his pen but maintained a neutral expression as he looked up at Doyle.

“The message was sent by Eugene Oddis himself,” he said. “That much is certain.”

“Then based on that, you should have been able to trace the IP address he used at the time, correct?” Doyle pressed.

“We did,” Luo Hai replied. “It led to a small internet café on the outskirts of Nantes. By the time we got there, he had already vanished without a trace, leaving no leads behind.”

Doyle remained silent for a long time, simply staring at Luo Hai.

The entire conference room fell into dead silence.

Those who had worked under Doyle long enough knew that this quiet was the precursor to his anger.

“Luo Hai, at our last meeting, I gave you one week to find Eugene Oddis and his hideout,” Doyle finally said. “Today is the final day of that deadline. What have you found?”

His voice was neither loud nor soft, yet it carried just enough weight for everyone to hear clearly.

No one spoke, but their gazes turned toward Luo Hai, gleefully anticipating his predicament.

Everyone knew that completing such an assignment within a week was impossible.

They weren’t interested in his investigation results—they were far more eager to watch the cold, aloof Iceberg Prosecutor get humiliated in front of a full room.

Luo Hai’s fingers tightened slightly.

Every eye in the room was on him. Doyle was waiting for an answer.

And the answer itself was standing right next to him—close enough to reach out and grab.

Eugene remained completely still.

Not a word, not a shift in posture. He leaned against the desk, watching the proceedings with lowered eyes, his expression unreadable.

This should have been simple.

This was the last chance—the final opportunity for him to put an end to this absurd play, return to the right path in life, regain Doyle’s trust, and avoid being ridiculed by everyone.

If it had been a month ago—no, even just a week ago, before Eugene pressed his forehead against the barrel of his gun, before Eugene looked at him with such sorrowful eyes—he wouldn’t have hesitated for even a second. He would have mercilessly sent him to the execution ground.

He had thought his heart would remain as cold and unyielding as ever, like the most indestructible fortress in the world.

But he was wrong. Without him even realizing it, his heart had already begun to peel away, piece by piece, like the withered petals of a rose—once they touched the ground, they shattered into dust.

Eugene Oddis was completely unreasonable.

He shattered his heart with his own hands, pushed him into a corner time and time again until he had nowhere left to retreat, and then pretended to be a gentleman, offering him the illusion of choice—placing his future, his achievements, and even his life into his hands.

As if he ever had a real choice.

“…I’m very sorry.” Luo Hai spoke softly. “A week was too short. Oddis is very cunning. Since leaving Nantes, he hasn’t left a single trace…”

Low chuckles echoed through the conference room. Doyle’s expression didn’t change, but the pressure in the air became even more suffocating.

“This is how you repay my expectations of you, Prosecutor Luo Hai?” Doyle enunciated each word carefully.

“…I’m very sorry.” Luo Hai closed his eyes.

Doyle slowly straightened up. “Forget it. From the day I picked you up, I already knew you wouldn’t amount to much. A truly promising child wouldn’t have cowered and cried all the way home just because a few adults scared him.”

This time, the laughter in the conference room was louder, sharper, and more unrestrained.

Luo Hai pressed his lips tightly together, remaining silent.

“All of your bonuses for this month are revoked, and your vacation for the year is canceled. Use that time to reflect on your work,” Doyle said coldly. “The investigation into Lightwing will now be handled by Director Kliman. You will be reassigned to manage the Omega prisoners from the previous cases. When you’ve thought things through, you can return to the project.”

Managing prisoners was a tedious and exhausting task—no one ever wanted to do it.

If this punishment had been given to anyone else in the room, they would have at least protested in dissatisfaction. But Luo Hai said nothing. He merely nodded.

Not long after, the meeting ended, and everyone returned to their respective duties.

Luo Hai was the last to leave. Just as he was about to push open his office door, a warm hand grasped his, heat seeping into his palm through the touch of their skin.

“Thank you,” Eugene said in a low voice.

Luo Hai forced himself not to linger on the warmth. He yanked his hand away and looked straight at Eugene. “Not turning you in doesn’t mean I’m on your side. I will never agree with your logic. Stay away from me. If you dare to cross the line again… there’ll be no need to tell Doyle. I’ll personally put an end to you.”

Eugene said nothing. He only looked at him with a faint, unreadable smile.

That smile inexplicably pricked at something inside Luo Hai. His expression hardened immediately, and he quickly stepped forward, shutting the office door in Eugene’s face.

….

Eugene didn’t come to bother him for the rest of the evening.

Luo Hai deliberately took his time packing up his things. But when he finally left his office, there was no sign of Eugene anywhere—only Colin was still in the records room, sorting through files.

“Boss.” Hearing his footsteps, Colin looked up. “You’re done for the day?”

“Mm,” Luo Hai responded briefly. “The rest can be handed over tomorrow.”

“Then go home and get some rest. I’ll be here for a little while longer.” Colin smiled.

When Doyle reassigned Luo Hai to managing the prisoners, Colin had also been reassigned to Director Kliman. Now, he had to reorganize documents and case files for her. The young Alpha didn’t say anything, but his face clearly displayed his frustration.

Still, people had to eat—especially someone like him, who had only graduated two years ago. So, he had no choice but to obey orders and work overtime.

He refocused on his files, sorting through them for a while before realizing that Luo Hai was still standing beside him, not leaving.

“Boss?” Colin looked up in confusion.

Luo Hai pressed his lips together slightly. “Have you seen Enyouge?”

“He left around seven o’clock, I think,” Colin blinked. “Why, do you need something from him?”

“No,” Luo Hai frowned, glancing around again, as if to make sure Eugene was truly gone.

Colin had already decided to stay out of his superior’s personal affairs—even if he had walked in on him making out with that new recruit in the restroom on their first day.

Yes, none of his business. He saw nothing. Colin repeated to himself.

Of course, Luo Hai didn’t notice Colin’s inner monologue. Once he was certain Eugene wasn’t nearby, he turned away irritably and walked out of the prosecutor’s office.

Where had Eugene gone? Did he have anywhere to go?

Had he returned to that secluded café in District Seven, or did he just find a random hotel nearby?

Surely, the Lightwing Society couldn’t still have an undiscovered hideout in the city center, could they?

What was he doing now? Plotting his next act of terror? Handling that missing batch of inhibitors?

Had he eaten dinner? Where did he eat? Did he still have subordinates waiting for him nearby?

Luo Hai pressed a hand against his car door handle and took a deep breath, forcing himself to rein in his scattered thoughts.

He might have just made the worst, most disastrous decision of his life.

But what was even worse—he knew that even if everything happened all over again, he would still make the exact same choice.