(Author's note: The dialogues in telepathy are italicized.)

  Though New Year's Eve has already passed, tonight feels like a year-end party at the Coldor Police Station. Everyone is busily preparing and whispering about an event that could be one of the biggest and most shocking in the department's history: the third son of the city mayor has been taken in as the main suspect in the "Black Hood" serial murder case, which has been causing public uproar. The detective team responsible for the case approaches this sensitive matter with caution, but they can't hide their hope and sense of victory, finally able to proceed after so much pressure and criticism.

  "We caught a big one this time, right?" Marcus Fields, the muscular detective who has led Gabriel in, now stands beside James, looking through the one-way glass window into the questioning room. Their eyes are glued to the person sitting there, trying to find any unusual signs, but he looks just like a normal lad—way too normal.

  "Is he really one of the mayor's sons? He looks completely different from Kyle," Marcus asks James suspiciously.

  "I know, I was surprised too," James replies. "But I checked his data, and he's no Snow White either. Let's do this!"

  James nods at Marcus and then moves to the room where Gabriel is. Marcus stays on the other side to observe the questioning.

  Gabriel knows this uncomfortable feeling, but he still can't get used to it. Sitting alone in a small, windowless room, under the bright light directly above him. The temperature is getting colder and colder as if someone has intentionally ignored adjusting the thermostat. Gabriel's hands are still cuffed. Seeing them like that again makes him feel uneasy.

  After a while, the room's door clicks open, and James comes in, sitting in front of Gabriel and placing a tablet on the table. The detective team leader starts with a warm smile.

  "Hi, Gabriel. I'm James Carter." He uncuffs Gabriel. "I'm going to ask you some questions. Please cooperate."

  Gabriel looks at him cautiously.

  "Alright. First, you left your house on January 7th, at around 11 PM, right? Where did you go?" James asks.

  "I was just... having some fresh air," Gabriel answers after pausing for a moment.

  "In that rain, and all the way to the suburbs?" James raises his eyebrows in question.

  Gabriel's silence isn't quite convincing.

  "Okay, maybe it's your personal interest. Then take a look at this. Is this your shoe?"

  James shows Gabriel a drawing on his tablet, the one made with Sarah's description of the shoe she had caught a glimpse of during the assault. Gabriel is a little surprised seeing that picture. He has been wearing these types of shoes and lock laces since they are the most suitable for the intense actions he performs. He is wearing them even now. But after regaining his composure, Gabriel responds:

  "It just looks like one, Detective. Did you check the shoe size?"

  "Yes." James says, looking through his files. "We have a shoe print from the scene, and it matches your shoe size."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Gabriel is dumbfounded.

  "I mean... These shoes are quite common, right? My size is an average one, too."

  "OK, putting these shoes aside, can you tell me what you were doing in this footage?" James continues.

  Gabriel sees himself in the crowd on that street three months ago in the clip James shows him.

  "Do I have to tell you?" Gabriel asks, looking tense. "Many other people were there. Would you gather everyone to question them like this?"

  "No, of course not," James chuckles. "But the thing is, you were known to be in Coldor prison at that time. We are waiting for their confirmation, and we'll know eventually. But you'd better tell me now, along with everything you're withholding, to make things easier for you later on. You understand?"

  James looks at Gabriel with patient, kind, and expectant eyes. But Gabriel remains silent. After a while, James sighs and prepares to leave.

  "OK. Let's take a break. We'll continue talking later."

  Gabriel knows that this "continue" won't just be "talking." The person who enters the room after the short break is Senior Detective Marcus. His expression and movements are a stark contrast to James's.

  Marcus throws his thick folder in front of Gabriel, making a series of loud noises by pulling his chair, kicking the table, and clearing his throat. Even with his huge body, those sounds still seem exaggerated. He doesn't say anything for a while, just gazes at Gabriel with the same cold stare he had when they first met at the Lanes' house. Now, sitting here, his gaze feels even stricter and more judging.

  "Come on, boy. You have experience in this already," Marcus snorts. "Look at you pretending to be all innocent."

  Gabriel swallows, bracing himself for what is coming.

  "Hey, hey, hey! Stop that act already!" Marcus raises his voice, spreading all the photos of the previous murders' crime scenes for Gabriel to see. Gabriel glimpses the tragic corpses, zoomed in and taken from many angles, with terror still ingrained on their lifeless faces, the hideous wounds implying all the terrible pain they had endured. Even though he is not unfamiliar with death, Gabriel can't help but close his eyes and turn away.

  "What's wrong? You enjoyed it," Marcus comments with irony. "It's hard to resist once you get a taste of it, huh? I heard about your feat when you were 16." He smirks sarcastically. "I know you psychos. You have that angelic mask, but are all rotten inside. No matter how well you hide it, your sick addiction will make you reckless and exposed sooner or later."

  Gabriel glares at him. His hands clench and tremble, trying to restrain himself. Knowing all this provocation is on purpose, Gabriel grits his teeth, refusing to talk.

  Marcus grabs the back of Gabriel's neck and forces him close, growling, "The culprit only targeted people weaker than him, like women, because he's a pathetic recessive himself. That's exactly what someone like you would do, right?"

  Gabriel finally snaps, his voice low but firm. "You talk as if I'm the culprit. Do you have solid proof?"

  His fever and chills are acting up, and the room's condition isn't helping. Cold sweat beads on his face. Gabriel just wants to rest.

  But the police won't let him. A detective comes barging in at the worst possible timing.

  "We retrieved the search history from the suspect's mobile phone. There have been frequent searches for 'mercy execution' up until recently."

  He brings the list to Marcus. The senior detective takes a quick look at it, then glances at Gabriel, who is sitting there speechless.

  "See what we have here," Marcus shows utter disgust. "Someone must think he's some god bestowing mercy on the poor souls, huh."

  Gabriel has been taken to the isolated detention room deep inside the police station. After hours of fruitless interrogation, the detectives decided they would just leave him there and wait for responses from Coldor Prison and other concrete evidence.

  Gabriel sits with his back against the iron bars, which are slightly better than the ice-cold brick wall, crossing his arms to keep warm. Inmates here are usually treated with their rights intact, provided with a warm room, drinks, and meals. But the main suspect of a serial murder case might be an exception.

  As Gabriel shivers from the chill, coughing, a familiar voice with its uniquely humorous, sarcastic tone rings out from outside his cell.

  "Oh my, how could they haul in my top dog like a loser? My old heart is breaking!"

  Gabriel glances up, not surprised to see the other man, and sighs reluctantly. The man, on the other hand, cheerfully says, most of his appearance hidden in the hall's darkness, "Hi, Gab. I've come to save you!"