In the dimly lit room, the air thick with tension,Eitou sat across from the investigator, their gazes locked in a battle of wills. The flickering blue light cast eerie shadows on the worn-out walls, intensifying the sense of unease that hung in the air.
The investigator leaned forward, his voice firm and authoritative. "State your full name and age," he demanded, his eyes never wavering from Eitou's gaze.
Eitou, caught off guard by the sudden question, hesitated for a moment before mustering a response. "Edra Eitou. I'm 20," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of suspicion.
Eitou, his eyes brimming with suspicion, regarded the investigator with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. "Sayyyy, this place looks really shitty for a police station," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "It raises a lot of health concerns for me. You know I was in the hospital not too long ago, right?" Eitou's eyes narrowed, searching for any reaction from the investigator.
The investigator, unfazed by Eitou's attempt to divert the conversation, maintained his steely composure. "That doesn't really matter, does it?" he retorted, his voice dripping with indifference. "The doctor said you were fine and discharged you. Let's get straight to the point. You had a gunshot wound. Where is it?"
Eitou's surprise was palpable as he recoiled slightly in his chair. "Huh?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief. "You didn't even ask whether I was fine with talking about the issue. I almost died for fuck's sake." The weight of his near brush with mortality resonated in his words, his indignation seeping through.
The investigator's icy stare remained fixed on Eitou, his resolve unyielding. "Your mental health is the least of my worries, kid," he barked, his tone devoid of compassion. "You're looking at a really long time in bars if you keep stalling, so you better start talking." His words hung in the air, suffocating the room with their gravity.
Eitou's expression contorted, a mix of anger and hurt etched upon his face. "Wha... huh? Bars? For what?" he stammered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I didn't do any—"
Before Eitou could finish his sentence, the investigator interrupted him, his voice filled with controlled rage. "Then why is it that you're not injured?" he demanded, his accusation piercing the atmosphere like a shard of ice. "I know you faked that injury, so you better start spilling the beans, or you might get way worse than jail time!"
Eitou, overwhelmed by the weight of the investigator's accusations, his breaths quick and shallow, managed to muster a defiant response. "Oh, now you're threatening me?" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with outrage. "How outrageous. I need a lawyer." His eyes locked with the investigator's, unwavering in his determination to protect himself.
In the stifling room, the clash between Eitou and the investigator reached a crescendo. The tension crackled like electricity, the air thick with suspicion, accusations, and the palpable fear of consequences. Both individuals stood at the precipice, knowing that the truth lay shrouded in the darkness, waiting to be uncovered.