?Chapter 709:


    I made up my mind in an instant. “Let’s go. We need to check his dorm room right now. We might find something that can lead us to him.”


    Without wasting another second, we were on our way.


    When we arrived at Martin’s room, I didn’t hesitate. I threw the door open and started scanning the space, taking in every detail.


    The room was cramped, barely big enough for two beds and two desks. It looked like a storm had passed through—papers scattered, clothes tossed around, a mess of everyday life spilling over the furniture.


    Martin’s roommate flushed red, scratching his cheek nervously. “I didn’t have time to clean. It’s pretty messy in here, sorry.”


    I waved his apology away, my eyes already darting between the beds and desks, each corner of the room holding potential answers. “Which bed and desk are Martin’s?”


    He pointed hesitantly to the left. “Over there.”


    I wasted no time. Bending down, I began rifling through the clutter, my heart racing with every discarded paper.


    Minutes passed, and all I could find were a few random odds and ends. My hope began to wane, and just as I was about to give up, I noticed something—a small booklet wedged between the bedframe and the mattress.


    My eyes immediately sparked with realization, and I stopped in my tracks, my search momentarily forgotten.


    Martin’s roommate leaned in, his gaze sharp as he studied the object in my hand. “That looks like Martin’s work journal,” he murmured.


    A strong gut feeling urged me to investigate further. There could be something crucial hidden in its pages.


    I reached for it, but as soon as my fingers brushed the edge of the booklet, I pulled back, almost as if jolted by an electric shock. A moment’s hesitation held me frozen.


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    This was Martin’s personal belonging, after all. Opening it without his permission felt like crossing a line—an invasion of his privacy, and that didn’t sit well with me.


    Sensing my pause, Martin’s roommate quickly added, “It’s fine to look at it. It’s not private. Many of the staff have to keep these kinds of journals—just notes about daily duties and tasks.”


    Reassured, I swiftly picked up the booklet and carefully flipped it open, my fingers dancing across the pages.


    As I skimmed through the journal, a surprising realization settled in: Martin hadn’t been at the pce long at all.


    I didn’t linger on that discovery, though, flipping quickly until I reached the final pages. What I saw there ignited a fire within me.


    Since I had pulled Martin from prison, it seemed his life had been a continuous nightmare. He had been relentlessly harassed in the pce. Just yesterday, someone had found an excuse to beat him senseless during his shift.


    Rage surged through me, and I couldn’t help but demand answers. “What on earth has been happening to Martin?”


    He sighed deeply, the weight of helplessness evident in his voice. “Ever since Martin crossed Antoni, life’s been unbearable for him here. I even told him to leave, but he refused. He’s stubborn like that.”


    I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, the anger threatening to consume me. Martin’s disappearance wasn’t some random twist of fate—it had Antoni’s name all over it.


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