The corpse of the woman with wounds all over her body was slumped in a dark corner covered in blood. The full moonlight shone through the wooden latticework, highlighting the ruffled blue skin of the kimono.
A tall man let out a terrible laugh. Even though he couldn't see his face, the other masked man could feel the laughter of satisfaction from his partner. One is wearing an Oni mask and the other is a Kitsune mask.
They are butchers who love to slaughter women.
"All women are trash!" he hissed.
"Cheap! Except for my mother," the other man responded.
"The opposite of me, she is the most humble woman I have ever known!"
Then the two of them turned their backs on the corpse, in a standing position. Turn your face to the moonlight. Then took off the mask and threw it on each side of the woman who lay lifeless stiff.
As usual, they left the place without a significant trace. Only two masks indicate that both of them are people who like to challenge.
Only crazy people ask police officials to give chase. They love a challenge, but are also too arrogant to be undiscovered.
Elsewhere, a Tokyo police state detective opens a file on a murder case that occurred ten years ago. Which has now been closed due to no results. The victim's country also did not demand, because according to the head of state, the victim was legally a Japanese citizen. He just doesn't have a family.
He looked sadly at the photo of the murdered victim. A woman with long braided hair. Wearing a red kimono, matching her lips. Her beautiful and big eyes bewitch the detective's gaze.
Maya Devasena. That's what's written. An Indonesian citizen who resides in Japan. Died horribly by being stabbed with a katana - a typical Samurai sword - right in the heart.
"If you were still alive, you would be 42. Maybe we should have had 3 or 4 children. But now, I'm marrying your son instead."
The man laughed, between amusement and sadness.
"Every time I see her, I think of you. I can't be her husband, but I married her. For you, Maya."
Not long after he reminisced, someone knocked on his door. At nights like this, only one woman dares to glorify. Nakagawa Naomi. Her lover.
"Just come in, Naomi." The man kept the file under the table, right in the drawer. He rubbed the corners of his eyes that were almost wet with his own tears.
Open door. Showing the figure of a beautiful woman with short hair with clothes that are lacking.
"Hello, Shinsuke-kun."
The man named Shinsuke mumbled in response to his lover.
"It's winter, but you're wearing summer clothes instead."
"This outfit supports hot activities, honey."
Shinsuke smirked. "Sorry, honey. I'm not in the mood."
Naomi laughed at Shinsuke's words. He glanced at the door. He was determined to get Shinsuke's warmth tonight.
"Isn't he still at your parents' house? There's no one in your apartment, honey." Naomi walked over to Shinsuke who was sitting at his desk.
"After all... wouldn't that have no effect?"
"That's not the problem,"
"Then?"
Before Shinsuke could answer, Naomi's hands wrapped around her neck. A little massage to just relax.
Then next, who knows who started it, the two humans touched each other's bodies, taking off their clothes to drink pseudo pleasure. Witnessed by the person who has the official status as Shinsuke's wife. Unfortunately, Shinsuke didn't realize that the girl he married two years ago was standing not far away.
Unlike Shinsuke, Naomi clearly knew that her hot scene with Shinsuke was being witnessed by the young woman.
Meanwhile in other parts of the world, a police commissioner pounded his desk. Cases of mysterious deaths that befell Korean artists are increasingly rampant.
"Inspector Lee, call the Japanese ambassador and ask them to help us investigate this thorny case!"
This was his order to a member of the police force under the division he led.
"All right, Commissioner!"