She paused, her fingers tapping lightly against the cold glass surface of the table.
“In a moment, inside the interrogation room, you two…
Ask them this: ‘Did you like Mark?’
Each time, change the wording.
Repeat it exactly five times.”
White reached for a blank sheet of paper on the desk.
The ballpoint pen moved swiftly; neat, cold lines of handwriting appeared four examples:
-Was there ever something about Mark that caught your attention?
-Have you ever thought of Mark as the ideal type?
-If you were a girl, would you consider Mark a potential boyfriend?
-Between the two of you, did a relationship that went beyond friendship ever develop?
She pushed the paper toward the centre of the table.
Knight, Thomas and Jay all leaned forward to look.
The atmosphere suddenly grew heavier by another degree.
White continued, her voice neither high nor low, yet carrying enough weight for everyone to feel it:
“A normal young man’s reaction, when continuously questioned about his sexuality with these kinds of questions, will be immediate irritation.
But if they hesitate, become flustered, or avoid eye contact… it means they are hiding something.
Even if they are not the killer we’re looking for, at the very least… they will give us information about him.”
Thomas nodded slowly.
Behind his glasses his blue eyes flickered with belated resolve.
“We understand.”
He signalled Jay with a glance.
Jay stood up at once, the case file still gripped tightly in his hand.
“Then we’ll go ahead.”
The two men left the room without another word.
The soundproof door closed behind them with a dry click, leaving White and K9 in the cold silence.
Out in the corridor, hurried footsteps echoed, followed by short radio communications and rapid orders.
Reinforcements were being called in.
After a long, drawn-out wait inside Unit A’s meeting room, the air grew so stifling that even the hum of the ventilation fan seemed heavy.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Knight stood up and opened it.
Merry stood in the corridor, her black hair neatly tied back.
Her blue eyes held a trace of fatigue, yet she still wore a professional smile.
“Hello, you two.
The victim’s three close friends have been brought in.
White, you can come and observe.”
White stood, leaving half a hamburger behind.
She wiped her mouth lightly with a napkin without a word, her gaze sweeping over the unfinished files still scattered across the glass table.
Knight also set aside the sandwich he had been eating and wiped his hands roughly on his sleeve.
She and Knight followed Merry out, leaving the soundproof room with the victims’ photographs still staring from the pinboard.
The headquarters corridor was cold; the sound of their shoes echoed evenly across the polished stone floor.
They stopped in front of the observation room that connected to three separate interrogation rooms.
Inside, the observation room was dim, filled with surveillance screens showing multiple camera angles.
White and Knight sat down on the cold leather chairs.
Merry stood behind them, arms crossed.
On the main screen: the first interrogation room.
Milio curly black hair, glasses slipping down his nose, green eyes shadowed with dark circles from lack of sleep sat opposite Jay and Thomas.
The white light fell across his face, making him look paler than usual.
Thomas and Jay had already finished asking the questions according to the script White had prepared five times, each time rephrased, circling the same sensitive topic.
Milio suddenly shot to his feet.
Both palms slammed hard against the metal table; the dull bang rang out dryly in the sealed room.
His face flushed red, eyes blazing, he almost shouted, full of outrage:
“What the hell are you asking me?!
I don’t have that kind of disgusting feeling for my friend!!”
White watched the screen, her artificial blue eyes unblinking.
Her voice whispered through the microphone connected to the interrogation room:
“His angry reaction has no delay.
It was even the immediate explosion of suppressed rage.”
She paused briefly, her cold voice coming through clearly:
“Next room.
He is not a suspect.”
Thomas and Jay nodded through the one-way glass.
They stood and left the room, leaving Milio still red-faced and breathing heavily with anger.
The observation group moved to the adjacent room.
A new screen lit up.
Larxus black hair, golden eyes sat in silence at first.
Jay and Thomas began asking the prepared questions.
Only a short while later.
Larxus suddenly clenched his fists and kicked the metal table hard.
The bang rang out sharply, vibrating even the observation glass.
He lifted his head, golden eyes blazing with fury, and roared:
“Do you think I’m that kind of guy?!
Asking those questions is disgusting as hell!!”
White sat still in the observation room, her fingers tapping lightly against the cold leather armrest.
Her voice came through the microphone again:
“This is a violent outburst of rage.
No concealment, no hesitation.
Not him.
Next person.”
They continued moving.
The final interrogation room.
Tristan messy layered purple hair, blue eyes sat waiting, arms crossed, his expression full of boredom.
This time it was neither Jay nor Thomas.
White herself stepped into the interrogation room.
The door closed behind her with a dry click.
She sat down in the chair opposite Tristan.
The white light fell across both of them like a cold blade.
“I am collaborative detective.
I need you to answer a few questions.
Do you understand?”
Tristan nodded lightly, his voice even:
“Fine, Miss Detective.”
White began to ask.
The questions were identical, only the wording changed, repeated five times, all circling around whether Tristan had been in love with Mark.
Tristan answered calmly at first.
Then he suddenly shot to his feet.
His fist swung up and slammed hard onto the metal table.
The bang rang out for the third time, shaking the entire room.
He shouted straight into White’s face, his blue eyes blazing with anger, his voice almost hissing through clenched teeth:
“Hey, you!
Read too much yaoi and now you’re asking this kind of nonsense?!
I’m not one of those guys from the manga you read, you hear me?!”
White clasped her hands in front of her chest, fingers tightly interlocked.
Her voice dropped, unusually gentle, as if she were trying to soothe an invisible wound:
“I sincerely apologise.
The questions just now made you angry, but they are very important for finding the killer.”
Tristan looked at White’s face black hair with a soft fringe, blue eyes behind the glasses holding a rare trace of sincerity.
Her voice was soft now, no longer sharp and cold as it had been during the questioning.
He exhaled a long breath; his shoulders eased slightly.
“…I’m sorry.
I overreacted.”
White nodded lightly and stood up first.
“Would you come with me to the reception room?
I still have a few more things to ask.”
Tristan looked at her for a second, then nodded.
“Alright.”
In the other two interrogation rooms, Thomas and Jay were also leading Milio and Larxus out into the corridor one after another.
No one spoke; only the even sound of shoes echoed across the cold stone floor.
The reception lounge was a wider room with softer lighting.
A new blue sofa had been placed in the centre.
Mark’s three friends were invited to sit together on the long sofa.
Milio, Larxus, Tristan—three young faces now all carrying the same weariness and wariness.
Merry brought over several paper cups of plain water and set them gently on the glass table.
“I’ll step outside for a moment.”
The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving eight people in a space that felt strangely vast yet stifling.
Jay sat in one corner of the sofa.
Thomas sat opposite him.
Knight leaned back in the armchair to the left, eyes quietly observing.
White sat in the centre, directly facing Mark’s three friends.
She lowered her head slightly.
The false fringe fell forward, half-hiding her eyes.
Her voice dropped, unusually gentle amid the cold air of the reception room:
“I’m sorry for calling you here on a Sunday… and especially for the inappropriate questions just now.”
She paused briefly, then raised her head.
Her artificial blue eyes looked straight at the three young men opposite her.
“As you already know, for a long time we have been unable to find the person who killed Mark.
What do you think of him?
Of the first victim in this series of cases.”
Milio exhaled.
A weary smile lingered at the corner of his mouth.
“Mark… he wrote a confession letter for me.
Then he gave it to the girl who is now my girlfriend.
That’s how I got a girlfriend.”
The words drifted out like a scrap of paper on the wind.
No one asked further.
The weight of them was already enough.
Larxus gripped the paper cup tightly.
His voice trembled.
“My father often got drunk.
He would throw me out onto the street.
Mark gave me food, money, a place to sleep behind my parents’ backs.
If I ever find out who killed him, I swear…”
His words broke off.
Language fell to the floor.
Tristan whispered, as if afraid of waking something:
“Without him, the credits I owed would probably have doubled.
That guy… was good to the point of foolishness.”
Avis placed her hands on the table.
Her voice was just loud enough for everyone to catch the intent:
“Three months ago… did Mark save anyone?
Pull someone out of the path of a car, or stop a suicide?
Did he save someone’s life?”
Milio looked into the distance, as if seeing a scene that had already blurred:
“There was… A student, I think he was studying medicine.
His backpack had a logo of an open palm with a green cross.
Moss-green hair.
He jumped into the lake.
Mark jumped in after him.
I took off my glasses and jumped in too.
We worked together to get him to the shore.
Mark did chest compressions.
Called an ambulance.
We… never learned his name.”