Has it already been three days? The dampness and coldness of this room only accentuated the deafening silence that went on. Sound of footsteps going back and forth completed the tedious rattling of the ventilation fan—left and right, forward and back. My life for the past few days was just a loop between confinement and interrogation room. Today, too, wasn’t that much different.

My head was down, looking at the man in a black shirt through my hardened oily hair. At least any kind of smell was masked by the aerosol room freshener. I had nothing to hide nor anything to tell him so staying completely silent for the past three days had been about not falling into their traps. At least that was how I would like to say it. At the end of the day, that shakiness hadn’t left my body since the second I met that man who called himself Beelzebub. I wouldn’t be surprised if the pounding in my heart was clearly audible.

“Kagura,” the man slammed his hand on the table. I could feel his breath at the tip of my right ear. “Let’s make this easier for the both of us.”

I sighed. His stance twitched slightly, probably expecting me to give him any kind of response. Crossing his arms, he put his ears close. I stayed firmly silent, betraying his expectations. Frustration started to swell up on his face along with the red that filled his face.

Reality will reshape itself to make sense of everything. 

I couldn’t blame him for being pissed. As much as he knew, I was someone who was caught literally red-handed with the murder weapon in my hand. But the CCTVs in the monorail system and Sector Eight’s surveillance system would confirm my alibi. Reality may have reshaped itself but the truth won’t be distorted. That was the rule explained to me. Yes, my one phone call didn’t go to any lawyer. It was for David. Whatever happened, reality wouldn’t make me the killer of my family because that’s the truth of this world.

“As expected of a law student. He knows his rights,,” a man walked in—pale skinned, brown eyes, around mid-forties. He was wearing a rough simple shirt and a pair of baggy pants, all covered by a brown trench coat, old school including the reek of cigarettes. He had his mustache and beard unkempt, covering a quarter of his face. His huge glasses came right from the 80s.

“Oh, fuck me! Zeroes can’t possibly take this case!”

“Sorry, Fleming. It’s the Commissioner’s—”

“Order? Obviously I know that’s the case whenever you’re involved.”

“There you go. There’s no point in complaining to me, isn’t there?”

“Look,” Detective Fleming got closer to the old man’s ears as they started whispering to each other. I couldn’t really hear what they were saying despite them being in the same room. It wasn’t like I cared about what they were saying.

It took a while until Fleming groaned as he stomped his way out of the room. The guy who was left turned to me and took out a pair of handcuffs from his trench coat. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said.

I let him cuff my left hand to the steel bar attached to the table. He walked to the other side. A gentle smile could be seen underneath his heavy mustache. He looked confident for some reason. Something is up.

“I’m detective Gawain Wilson from the Zero Division.”

“Never heard of that.”

“You will, a lot, from now on.”

He opened the files he brought, exhibiting crime scene photos in front of me one-by-one. I couldn’t help but throw my gaze somewhere else to the cold gray wall to my right.

“Now, now, let’s take a good look at these. Seventeen stabs on a doctor, a few on an aspiring lawyer not including his snapped neck, one slit on the art student’s neck, and one clean stab through the eyes of a diplomat. A matter of war negotiation problem aside, it’s your family you killed.”

 Taking an attempt at provocation, he repeatedly tapped his finger on the table. The sound was dull but it was sharp enough to get my attention turning.

“Arunendra Laurent. I believe you know that name. He told me about your history with Miss Maria Whitaker here. Poor girl must’ve not expected your knife coming. Unfortunate. That’s what we call what happened to her. It’s not fortune that failed her, though, isn’t it? It’s you.”

I could feel my heart accelerating. It caught me wondering why. I held my best for the past three days fighting against Fleming’s interrogation but somehow Wilson got through me. Something was off about his calmly intimidating tone.

“Let me paint you a picture, Mr. Kagura. You had a crush on your best friend but she went on and dated your brother. Your parents? They celebrate the occasion instead.” He stood up and moved the chair to my left. He kept on tapping his feet right beside me. Irritating. He put his hand on my shoulder, patting it rhythmically. 

“Dinner party, was it? A new addition to the family? Another son being a local hero? Your family must have been really happy. For you, though, nothing went your way like always. An unlucky episode, was it? That’s what I heard from the children.”

“So you talked to them.”

“Unlucky kids, considering what’s going on with their beloved big brother Sota.”

“You told them?”