Burdened Wings of Royic

The hallway outside the director's office was dead silent. Each step Kiaan took echoed faintly against the polished floor, the weight of unknown summons coiling tightly in his stomach. He adjusted the collar of his jacket, took a breath, and knocked twice.

"Enter," came a firm voice from within.

Kiaan stepped in briskly and came to a halt, snapping into a salute the moment he recognized the occupants of the room. Director Arvind Bansal sat at the head of the table, his usual stoic presence like a stone wall. Beside him stood Joint Director Raghav Kapoor, his sharp eyes trailing every move Kiaan made. But it was the third man, dressed in a crisp, darker uniform with additional stars on his shoulder, that made Kiaan instinctively straighten even further.

"Sir," Kiaan acknowledged, saluting the superior officer.

"At ease, Captain Verma," Director Bansal gestured.

Kiaan relaxed but only slightly. He could feel the tension in the room, smell the pressure in the air. Something serious was up.

"This," Raghav said, pushing a fresh beige file across the table toward him, "was found in the possession of customs at Swindon International Airport. A full black duffel bag. Inside it—3.6 kilos of tightly packed synthetic narcotics."

Kiaan's brows furrowed as he opened the folder, revealing photos—plastic-wrapped bricks of white powder lined inside a designer travel bag. Airport seizure forms, initial reports, passenger name records… all scattered across the pages.

"It was discovered on a Royic Airlines flight inbound from Bangkok," Director Bansal added, his voice low. "But the territory falls under our unit's jurisdiction. So the customs department has handed it over to us. Politely, but firmly."

Kiaan's jaw clenched slightly. Royic Airlines. A name too clean to be suspicious on the surface, yet known in certain dark circles for being 'untouchable.'

"The higher-ups want this file closed," said the superior officer, his voice deep and final, like a gavel slamming. "Quietly. No drama. It's a 'valuable brand' for the country's trade interests."

Kiaan knew that tone. Political pressure. Corporate shields. Invisible hands pulling strings above law enforcement's head.

"But," Raghav cut in with a sly smile, "if you find anything—a lead, a name, a crack in their perfect façade—before this file gets buried, we might have something we can use… later."

Kiaan slowly closed the file. "So you want me to investigate but not stir the hornet's nest?"

"We want you to see what's under the surface," Director Bansal said. "Carefully. Covertly. If you find something, good. If not—this file dies quietly."

Kiaan nodded once. "Understood, Sir. I'll begin immediately. Can I bring my team in?"

"Only Dev and Rehaan," said Raghav. "Too many hands and the file may slip out."

"Also," the superior officer added with a glance, "there's chatter—Royic has hosted high-profile passengers recently. Names that don't show up in public manifests. Dig. Quietly."

Kiaan's fingers tightened around the file.

He saluted again, sharp and crisp. "I'll update you within 72 hours."

As he exited the room, file in hand, the air outside felt just a little heavier than when he'd entered. He didn't know what he'd find in the sky-soaring Royic Airlines, but something told him—this wasn't just another drug drop. It was a thread. And if he pulled it hard enough, an entire web might unravel.