The detention facility room was square, with tatami mats on the floor and a bed in the corner. At the far end was a Western-style bathroom with an automatic sensor door. Other than that, there should have been nothing else in the room.
This wasn't Hirano Toda's first time in a detention facility. Looking over his life record, being in detention or prison was as common for him as eating and drinking. Of his thirty-six years of life, twenty-three had been spent in prisons and detention facilities. Returning here felt as comfortable as coming home.
However, Hirano Toda couldn't feel even a trace of relaxation now. Instead, his heart was squeezed by an unprecedented fear.
His eyes were wide with disbelief, at one point suspecting he was hallucinating from drugs.
If it wasn't a hallucination, then how could the man he had killed be standing in front of him?
The man's plain facial features were deathly pale, and he was dressed in a black T-shirt and pants.
