Lucy had barely settled back into her routine.
It hadn't even been a full day.
And already—
Something felt wrong.
"Lucy."
She looked up.
The supervisor stood there again.
But this time—
No expression.
No warning.
"Come with me."
Lucy's chest tightened slightly.
"…Okay."
The walk felt familiar.
But worse.
No one tried to hide it this time.
People watched.
Openly.
Clara stood up halfway. "Lucy—"
Lucy shook her head slightly.
Not now.
Inside the office, the door closed.
"Sit."
Lucy sat.
Her hands rested together, tighter than before.
The supervisor didn't speak immediately.
She opened a file.
Turned it.
Pushed it across the table.
"Look at that."
Lucy frowned slightly.
Then looked down.
A printed sheet.
Access logs.
Time records.
Entries.
Her eyes moved slowly across the page.
Then stopped.
Her name.
Her ID.
Time stamped.
Late evening.
Accounts office.
Lucy's stomach dropped.
"…Yes," she said quietly. "I was there."
"Keep looking," the supervisor said.
Lucy's eyes moved again.
Another line.
Same time frame.
Restricted file access.
Her breath caught.
"No…" she whispered.
"That access was made under your ID," the supervisor said.
Lucy looked up immediately. "That's not possible."
"It is," the supervisor replied calmly. "It's right there."
"I didn't access anything," Lucy said, her voice rising slightly. "I only cleaned."
"The system says otherwise."
Lucy shook her head. "Then the system is wrong."
Silence.
"Lucy," the supervisor said, her tone lower now, "this is serious."
"I know it's serious!" Lucy snapped, then caught herself.
A brief pause.
"I didn't do it," she said again, more controlled.
The supervisor leaned back slightly.
"There's more."
Lucy froze.
"…More?"
Another document was placed on the table.
This time—
A photo.
Lucy stared at it.
Grainy.
Black and white.
Security camera.
A figure.
Inside the accounts office.
Near the cabinet.
Lucy leaned closer.
"That's not clear," she said quickly.
"It's you," the supervisor replied.
"No," Lucy said immediately. "You can't even see the face properly."
"The time matches your log."
Lucy's head shook again. "That doesn't mean it's me."
Silence filled the room.
Thick.
Heavy.
"Lucy," the supervisor said, "this is not looking good for you."
Lucy's chest rose and fell.
"I didn't take anything," she said again.
But this time—
It didn't sound as strong.
"Do you have access to your ID card at all times?" the supervisor asked.
"Yes."
"Has anyone used it?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Lucy hesitated.
"…Yes."
The supervisor watched her closely.
That hesitation—
It didn't help.
"You understand what this means," she said.
Lucy swallowed.
"…No."
"It means," the supervisor continued, "everything is pointing at you."
Lucy went quiet.
For a moment—
She had no words.
Then—
"This is not right," she said.
The supervisor didn't respond.
"I was there, yes," Lucy continued. "But I didn't touch anything. I didn't open anything. I didn't even go near—"
She stopped.
Her mind catching something.
"…Wait."
The supervisor's eyes narrowed slightly. "What?"
Lucy frowned.
"I remember cleaning the desk near the cabinet," she said slowly.
"And?"
"There was… something on it," she added, uncertain now.
"What kind of something?"
"I don't know," Lucy said. "Files… maybe. I didn't pay attention."
The supervisor leaned forward.
"That's not helping you."
Lucy looked at her. "Because I'm telling the truth."
Another long silence.
Finally—
"You're not to leave the city," the supervisor said.
Lucy blinked. "…What?"
"Until this is resolved."
Lucy let out a quiet, disbelieving breath. "I wasn't planning to go anywhere."
"Good."
The supervisor closed the file.
"For now, continue your duties."
Lucy frowned. "Continue?"
"Yes."
"That doesn't make sense," Lucy said. "If you think it's me—"
"We're still investigating," she cut in.
Lucy stared at her.
Confused.
Frustrated.
Trapped.
"…Okay," she said finally.
She stood.
Walked to the door.
Then paused.
"I didn't do it," she said again.
This time—
The supervisor didn't reply at all.
Lucy stepped out.
The hallway felt colder.
Clara rushed to her. "Lucy! What happened?"
Lucy looked at her.
Her face calmer than she felt.
"…They have evidence."
Clara's eyes widened. "What kind of evidence?"
Lucy shook her head slowly.
"The kind that makes everyone believe it's you."
Clara went quiet.
Lucy picked up her things again.
Her movements slower now.
Heavier.
For the first time—
Doubt crept in.
Not about what she did.
But about what was happening to her.