Cecil was dead.
He died in front of everyone.
He swelled up like a balloon, then—
Pop!
He just burst open.
Flesh and blood flew everywhere, covering the whole Sausage Street.
And Cecil had just left Hannibal's clinic before his death.
Sitting in the back of the old car, Jason and Edward listened to Bansey's narration, with Jason sporting a playful expression, while Edward's face became solemn in an instant.
It was Hannibal again!
Once more, the figure of this psychologist appeared in Edward's field of view.
"Could this guy be some kind of a psychopathic serial killer?"
Bansey, who was driving, speculated.
"Probably not."
"He has a considerable status and position."
"Moreover, the charity foundation he runs does indeed do good deeds."
Edward shook his head, but his tone was not so certain.
He hadn't forgotten Davide.
The latter also came from an extraordinary background, possessing a status and position beyond the imagination of ordinary people.
But what had he done?
