C1156 The Real Murderer Has Appeared
The night was pitch-black, a darkness so profound that one couldn't see their own fingers before their eyes—it felt like the depths of a shadowy hell.
The man on duty, asked to sit on a rock, was in his thirties, dressed in fine attire. As the gentle sounds of other passengers' slumber filled the air, his gaze turned sinister. He glanced back at the sleeping figures