Aurelia POV:-
I was standing in front of the Montclair Group building.
And for the first time in a while… I was nervous.
Not the kind that makes you panic.
The kind that sits quietly in your chest, making you aware of every breath you take.
What if I mess up?
What if I don't perform the way I expect myself to?
What even is Round 2 going to be like?
Too many questions.
But I didn't let them show.
I inhaled slowly, straightened my posture, and walked forward.
The glass door was so clean I almost walked into it without realizing it existed.
Great. First impression: blind candidate.
I pushed it open and stepped inside.
Everything felt… precise.
Like every corner of this place expected perfection.
I already knew the floor, so I didn't stop. Straight to the elevator.
And of course, my brain decided this was the perfect time to think—
What if a thief just walks in and attacks someone?
I blinked.
Really, Aurelia? Right now?
I shook the thought away as the elevator doors opened.
Third floor.
As soon as I stepped out, a lady greeted me politely and guided me toward the conference hall.
I noticed something immediately.
No one else was there.
"Am I early?" I asked.
"Yes, you are the first candidate," she replied with a professional smile.
First.
That meant no observation, no comparison… just me.
I nodded and entered the room.
I sat down.
The table was polished, the glass walls reflected light sharply, the chairs were aligned perfectly. Everything looked so controlled that it almost felt intimidating.
I placed my file in front of me.
Tried to focus.
Didn't work.
Because slowly… something started building inside me.
A strange uneasiness.
Not fear exactly.
But something unfamiliar.
I adjusted my fingers on the file.
Why am I feeling like this?
While I was sitting inside, I looked outside the door.
The hallway was no longer empty. People were moving—staff, candidates, quiet footsteps, low voices. Everyone looked focused in their own way.
That's when it hit me.
I'm first.
A faint smile appeared on my face.
Good. Get it over with.
I looked back at my file.
Still couldn't focus.
Because then—
Something shifted.
No sound.
No announcement.
Just… presence.
My head lifted on its own.
A man had just entered.
No… not just a man.
There was something about him.
The way he walked—steady, unhurried. Not slow, not fast. Just… certain. Like he wasn't trying to impress anyone, but didn't need to.
My eyes followed him without permission.
Charcoal suit. Perfectly fitted. Sharp, but not loud. The kind of presence that didn't demand attention—
but still held it.
His posture was straight, shoulders firm. Every step controlled.
He adjusted his cuff slightly.
His gaze stayed forward.
Unreadable.
Composed.
Too composed.
For a second, I forgot where I was.
Is this an interview or a fashion show?
"Focus, Aurelia," I muttered under my breath, lowering my eyes to the file.
But something felt…
familiar.
I frowned slightly.
Have I seen him before?
No.
That didn't make sense.
I would remember someone like that.
Right?
Still… my eyes lifted again.
He was closer now.
And for a brief second—just a second—his gaze shifted.
Not directly at me.
But enough.
Enough to make my breath pause.
I quickly looked down, flipping a page I hadn't even read.
"Get a grip," I whispered.
This wasn't the time.
This was my interview.
Nothing else mattered.
…right?
"Hello Miss Aurelia Vale, please have a seat."
That voice.
Something about it…
I had heard it before.
But where?
"Hello, sir." The words came out before I could think.
We both sat.
And suddenly, the room felt smaller.
Like all attention was focused on this table.
"So, Miss Vale… shall we begin?"
A slight pause.
I inhaled.
"Yes, sir."
My voice held.
Good.
He signaled for a file.
As it was placed in front of him, my eyes followed the movement unconsciously. My heartbeat picked up slightly.
Why does this feel like I'm being judged for something I didn't even do?
"Miss Vale," he began, "in Round 2, I provide candidates with a solved case file. Your task is to decode at least fifty percent within the given time. If you succeed, you proceed. If not—but you show potential—you may be considered for Round 3. Otherwise, your application ends here. Is that clear?"
I processed it.
Okay… tough. But manageable.
"Yes, sir."
"Any questions?"
I paused.
Thought.
"Sir… how much time will I be given? And will I be supervised here?"
"You will be given five hours. And yes, I will be here."
Five hours.
With him.
Great.
"No further questions, sir."
This is literally exam hall trauma 2.0.
"Did you say something?" he asked.
I froze for half a second.
"No, sir. Just thinking."
"Good. You may begin."
I opened the file.
And the moment my eyes scanned the first page—
I paused.
Wait.
No…
I flipped the page.
Then another.
My brows pulled together.
This is…
The factory murder case.
For a second, I didn't move.
Out of all cases… this one?
A slow breath left me.
This wasn't just any case.
I had studied this.
Deeply.
Because something about it had stayed with me—the pattern, the psychology, the silence behind the violence.
I looked up.
"Sir…" I paused, choosing my words carefully, "I have studied this case before. I am familiar with the pattern, the reasoning, and the conclusion."
A slight pause.
"If I proceed… wouldn't that be unfair to others?"
He looked at me.
Properly this time.
"I appreciate your honesty, Miss Vale," he said. "If you know the case, then answer directly. I will assess your understanding."
I nodded slowly.
Alright then.
"First question," he said. "Why did the killer target factory workers?"
I didn't answer immediately.
I let the memory settle.
Then I spoke.
"He… targeted factory workers because of something personal."
A pause.
I exhaled softly.
"He was married. And he had requested a job for his wife in a factory. When she finally got employed, everything seemed normal."
I paused again.
My fingers tightened slightly.
"But… one evening… around 7 to 8 PM… she didn't return home safely."
A small breath.
"She was harassed… assaulted… and later, after postmortem, it was confirmed she was gang-raped by ten men in that same factory."
I stopped for a second.
The room felt heavier.
"He found out. And something… broke. Newlywed couple shattered within months for some dirty peoples."
A quieter tone now.
" So , he tracked them. One by one. And killed all ten… within a controlled time frame."
Silence.
He didn't interrupt.
"Next question," he continued. "Why the pattern? "
I paused again.
Thinking.
"He drew a semicircle below the bullet wound," I said slowly. "Because his wife had a similar mark on her body. A birthmark."
I added softly,
"It wasn't just revenge. It was… remembrance."
A faint silence followed.
"Why didn't he go through legal channels?" he asked.
"He did," I replied, after a pause. "But lack of evidence led to no action. Justice failed him. So… he created his own."
A small silence again.
Then—
"Under which provision was he punished?"
I straightened slightly.
"The accused was charged under Section 187 of the California Penal Code for murder, with special circumstances under Section 190.2 due to multiple victims."
A pause.
"Considering the psychological context, the court sentenced him to life imprisonment rather than capital punishment."
Silence.
Then—
"Impressive, Miss Vale."
I didn't react much.
Just a small, controlled smile.
"Your performance is noted. Results will be informed."
We both stood.
Handshake.
Firm.
Professional.
I turned to leave—
"Miss Vale."
I stopped.
"One last question."
I turned back.
"Yes, sir?"
He looked at me.
Not as an interviewer.
Something else.
"Your name doesn't sound local," he said. "More like… Italy."
A pause.
"Yes, sir. I was born in Rome."
Another pause.
Then he asked—
"Why California for law?"
I froze.
Not visibly.
But inside— completely.
That question.
Of all questions.
I didn't answer immediately because I didn't expect.
Because there were two answers.
The easy one which is believable but not true .
And the real one – the honest one.
My grip on the file tightened slightly.
I looked at him.
And for the first time— My eyes unknowingly started get flashback that I didn't request
For first time —
I hesitated before answering.
"…that's a long answer, sir."