At that very moment, Felzein reached out to a local outfit, Maxwell Vision Guard, to arrange the installation of a CCTV system.
Before long, two technicians arrived, Alex, a man of tidy appearance, bearing a hefty toolbox slung across his back, and Jeje, a keen yet somewhat bashful apprentice.
Together, they conducted a meticulous survey of the entire pharmacy, settling on seven pivotal points for camera placement.
The cashier’s counter, the medicine aisle, the storage room, the staff quarters, the consultation chamber, the main entrance, and the rear door, which had recently been forced open.
Alex assumed command of the installation with brisk competence, while Jeje busied himself running cables and noting system settings onto their tablet.
Once their task was complete, Alex proceeded to test the apparatus, ensuring each camera streamed flawlessly, all feeds linking to the central monitor and syncing to the cloud, accessible via Felzein’s mobile device.
“If anything untoward occurs from here on, it’ll be caught in the act,” Alex remarked, giving Jeje a friendly tap on the shoulder.
Jeje returned a shy yet satisfied smile.
Approaching Felzein, Alex declared, “All is in order, sir. The cameras are live, and the system’s secure.”
Felzein nodded in approval and handed over a sum of money. Though Alex courteously declined, Felzein was firm.
“Consider it a small token of my gratitude,” he said warmly.
Though unofficial, the tip was Felzein’s personal acknowledgment of their swift, meticulous workmanship.
Felzein, in a quiet act of gratitude, handed out small sums of money to the townsfolk who had stepped in to help him collect the carcasses of the rats.
At first, they declined with polite insistence after all, they hadn’t done it for reward.
It was simply what decent people did for one another in times of trouble.
But Felzein remained firm, his tone warm yet unyielding. To him, no act of kindness was ever too small to be acknowledged.
Reluctantly, and with visible modesty, they accepted, murmuring their thanks with downcast eyes, as though the weight of the notes in their hands embarrassed them more than gratified them.
Elsewhere, Heru, the sharp-eyed crime journalist whose byline had become a familiar presence in The KobaNews Crime Daily was preparing to leave.
He had spent the morning with notebook in hand, instincts alert, absorbing every detail of the day’s strange and sordid events.
Now, slinging a well-worn satchel over his shoulder, one that bulged with the day’s notes, a compact camera, and the comforting clutter of a reporter’s trade, he made his way to the motorbike parked just outside the pharmacy.
Before swinging a leg over the seat, he paused to snap a final few photographs.
The quiet devastation of the shop’s interior, the faded scrawl of that hateful message still faintly visible on the tiles, the ghost of chaos lingering in the stillness.
“This one’ll cause a stir when it hits the presses,” he murmured to himself with a half-smile. “But don’t worry, mate. My pen’s still fair.”
Felzein, standing just inside the doorway, said nothing.
He merely offered a nod, faint but steady, an unspoken farewell between two men who had seen enough trouble for one morning.
Heru kicked the motorbike into life and sped off into the fading afternoon light, his thoughts already dancing through possible headlines for the piece he’d write that evening.
Felzein remained a moment longer, then let out a long breath, one that seemed to carry the weight of the morning with it.
“At last... it’s done,” he murmured, the weariness etched in his voice like an old refrain.
Rosa, Melati, and the other pharmacists, upon witnessing Felzein’s quiet decisiveness and composed presence, were seized by a twinge of guilt, yet they could not help but admire him.
Koba Baru Pharmacy was not, after all, the property of Dewi, despite her position as Head Pharmacist, nor of Melati, her ever-diligent assistant.
They were all employees. Qualified, yes, and impressively so. Every one of them held a degree in Pharmacy.
And yet, here they were, reduced to little more than chemists behind a counter, dispensing medicine day after day in a quiet corner of Koba.
It struck one as oddly tragic, the way some brilliance found itself dimmed beneath the daily weight of routine.
Curiously, the owner of Koba Baru Pharmacy was not one of them.
The true proprietor was a medical doctor, a detail known but rarely discussed.
And for reasons left unspoken, this doctor had chosen not the path of private practice, but of running a retail pharmacy.
“I’m terribly sorry, Dr Vradistza. We’ve ended up troubling you far more than we intended,” Dewi said at last, her voice edged with embarrassment.
Felzein offered her a soft, reassuring smile, “Think nothing of it, Dewi. It was hardly a trouble, just lending a hand where needed,” he said, brushing aside her concern with that calm, measured tone of his.
Dewi inclined her head gratefully, then added, “Dr Cherlyn will be arriving shortly. I’ve informed her of everything.”
“Dr Cherlyn?” Felzein’s gaze shifted slightly, his brow furrowing as though dredging up an old memory. “Isn’t she the general practitioner currently pursuing her specialisation?”
“Yes, that’s her,” Dewi confirmed, a little surprised. “You know her?”
Felzein nodded slowly, almost pensively, “Yes… well enough,” he replied, his voice thin and unreadable.
But in the silence of his own thoughts, he murmured inwardly, "Cherlyn… so you’re the one behind this place."
Rosa, ever quick to catch subtleties, narrowed her eyes.
She had noticed the slight shift in his expression, the quiet flicker of something unspoken when the name was mentioned.
“‘Well enough,’ huh? That sounds suspiciously vague,” she teased, her gaze narrowing further.
Felzein blinked as if waking from a dream, then cleared his throat discreetly, “Yes. It’s been a while since we last met,” he said casually, though his tone carried a trace of guarded nostalgia.
“A while?” Melati echoed, eyes glinting with mischief and the faintest edge of something else jealousy, perhaps. “So, what was she? An old flame?”
Felzein merely smiled, enigmatic and unbothered, “Why not ask her yourself when she arrives?” he replied, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve with studied nonchalance.
“Very suspicious,” Rasya muttered, her voice low but clearly audible. The comment elicited a few muffled chuckles.
Wina, standing beside her, gave a knowing nod, her suspicions clearly piqued.
“Don’t tell me you two used to be close?” Rosa added, folding her arms as though awaiting a courtroom confession.
Her eyes were locked on Felzein’s face, searching for any tell.
Behind them, Dewi remained silent. Though her curiosity mirrored theirs, she refrained from joining the fray.
She, too, wanted to know the truth, but she preferred to hear it through what was unsaid, and what might yet unfold.
And then, just as the speculation reached its peak, the sound of tyres crunching against gravel drew their attention.
A sleek black sedan rolled to a stop beside Felzein’s own car, which still sat handsomely parked in front of the pharmacy.
From the vehicle stepped a woman of commanding elegance. Tall, poised, and strikingly composed.
Her walk was fluid, every movement precise yet unhurried.
Her long, raven-dark hair fell in carefully arranged waves over her shoulders, and her attire, clean, sharp, understated, spoke of wealth and refinement without need for embellishment.
She paused momentarily, her eyes falling upon Felzein’s car.
Her brow furrowed, not in displeasure, but in recognition. Something had changed in her expression, though she masked it quickly.
Dewi had contacted her earlier that day, and as fortune would have it, Dr Cherlyn had been in Koba for a short seminar.
The call had reached her at a critical moment but the news had been troubling enough to draw her away without hesitation.
Now, as she approached her place of business, her countenance was grave.
The matter at hand involved not only her property, but her professional reputation.
And Dr Cherlyn, as those who knew her well would attest, was not one to allow either to be compromised.