Shiller stood leisurely at the entrance of the police station.
He straightened the sleeve of his shirt, which had become wrinkled from driving, checked if his umbrella used that afternoon had picked up any mud, and finally went over to pick up the sculpture that Gordon had thrown away, patting off the dust that had settled on it.
Inside the police station, chaos reigned.
After several calls from Gordon, his most capable men rushed over by car; upon arrival, they grabbed their guns and charged into the station, only to come back out with the same vigor, looking at the sky and the earth, questioning reality.
Of the seven or eight people who had arrived in that time, not a single one dared to touch that thing on the ground.
Mainly because, after Gordon had set down the sculpture, it seemed to gain some freedom of movement, continuously writhing on the ground, the blood seeping from the stitches leaving behind crimson traces on the skin, interwoven with brightly colored thread, making it look even more terrifying.
Shiller approached the entrance of the main hall of the police station, looking through the revolving door inside where Gordon and his men, all armed, looked from one to another, expressions on their faces as if to say, "Deal with this thing? Me?"
"Shiller!!" Gordon called out unavoidably, "I didn't call you here just to stand by and watch!"
"I believe the words you used over the phone earlier were a bit impolite..."
"At a time like this, you're still... Okay, Professor Shearer, I shouldn't have used so much foul language. Are we good now?"
"What I mean is that I think your definition of a killer devil is somewhat, slightly..."
Gordon really couldn't stand it anymore and cursed again, then told his men, "Call Jonathan Crane! And that Valentine, Pamela, Jack..."
His subordinate immediately began to look through the phone book, making calls for quite some time. Pamela was too busy, Jack had fallen asleep, and ultimately, the only ones who could come were Jonathan and Valentine.
After a while, the two of them arrived, both revealing a mysterious smile upon seeing Shiller.
Entering the main hall of the police station, they saw the still-writhing thing on the ground and hesitated in their steps.
Jonathan immediately looked up at the string hanging from the beams of the police station. He almost instantly visualized the original state of the sculpture and, with a hint of regret, shook his head, "You shouldn't have taken it down; such a perfect sculpture."
"I kind of want to go to Mexico now," Valentine exclaimed.
"I didn't call you here to mope around. Move that thing already!!" Gordon yelled at them.
Jonathan just shrugged and said, "I think its current form is another expression of this piece of art, and I do not wish to destroy..."
"Just fucking move it!!!!"
Jonathan gestured with his hand for Gordon to calm down. He walked up, crouched on the ground, looked at the state of the skin cocoon, and then beckoned to Valentine, "Looks like this is a job for you."
Valentine went over, pulled back the ear of the outer layer of skin, and sure enough, found a cut behind the ear.
"Hand me a pair of scissors," Valentine said.
A nearby officer immediately handed him a pair of scissors, but they were the blunt-tip kind commonly used in offices. Valentine snorted in dissatisfaction, "If you still want to leave some evidence for the forensic team, find me a pair of professional surgical scissors."
At that moment, a pair of surgical scissors were handed to Valentine. Valentine looked up to see the hands offering the scissors were paler than those of the officers; it was Shiller.
Without saying a word, Valentine took the scissors and gently cut along the invisible stitching of the cut behind the ear, carefully dismantling the thread, then working from bottom to top, opening the stitched cut on the scalp.
"Unbelievable..." muttered Valentine, "From the marks where the stitches fused, this person has been dead no longer than 12 hours. And to accomplish a perfect full-body stitching within these 12 hours, he must be a top surgeon."
Gordon's ears perked up upon hearing this, and his men, without need for instruction, turned on their recording devices.
"More importantly, all of these cuts are precise when being cut and flawless during stitching. Perhaps he had already envisioned the kind of work he wanted to create before making the incisions."
"Because only sufficiently hidden cuts will not let the suturing stitches interfere with the effects of the decorative stitches, not overshadowing them but..."
"Can you stop talking?" said Gordon, "I know you're a killer devil with a great sense of art. Or maybe you can save it for your day in court."
Valentine pursed his lips and stopped talking. His movements were slow, even meticulous.
Also because he was unwilling to use swift movements to ruin the cuts and stitch marks, the skin was peeled off just as it was wrapped on.
The head was divided into two parts, the cut running from behind the ear upwards, the skin of the entire occipital area was intact; astonishingly, the skin of the facial features was also intact, not cut and stitched separately but a complete human skin mask.
When the last stitch was cut, Valentine, treating it like a treasure, carefully lifted the facial skin.
Crane's face was revealed.
He sprang up like a revived zombie, took a deep breath, and then started to vomit violently, but precisely because of his abrupt movements, more blood seeped out from the stitches and wounds, causing several officers to back off even further.
"Can you be a bit more cooperative?" Valentine said, "These decorative threads are all stitched into your skin; doesn't it hurt to struggle like this?"
Crane just emitted nonsensical shouts, and Valentine moved closer to take a good look, realizing that his lips were also stitched, using the same invisible threads, sewn extremely delicately.
"Looks like he needs to calm down," Jonathan turned back to look at Gordon.
Gordon turned his head away, his face clearly expressing: do whatever you want; I've seen nothing.
Jonathan pulled out an injectable needle and stuck it in Crane's neck, and not long after, Crane's eyes rolled back and he passed out, finally allowing Valentine to work in peace.
It didn't take long for him to peel off the entire human skin.
The human skin was astonishingly intact, with a single complete incision that ran from the right armpit down to the ankle, and no other cuts anywhere else.
Setting aside how he managed to stuff a person in through that single cut, the key was how he could use that single incision to peel off the skin, which could truly be described as a masterstroke.
Valentine couldn't stop marveling at the perfect cocoon of human skin.
Now, without the internal support of a body, the skin cocoon presented itself even more completely to everyone; it looked like a costume used for the Day of the Dead. If one didn't mention it was made of human skin, people would certainly marvel at the craftsman's clever mind and sophisticated aesthetic.
More importantly, after Crane's struggle, blood seeped from the wounds at the seams, saturating the originally too-bright threads into a uniform shade of dark red.
The more violent the struggle and bleeding in areas such as joints, the closer the color tended towards that of blood, while the static parts retained their bright colors, creating a dazzling gradient against the slightly dark skin, as if transitioning from life to death.
A person's death is not the end; everything from their lifetime could become another person's cocoon, either stifling the larva within or allowing it to break free and be reborn. It was as if proclaiming the traditional Aztec saying, "The dead lie in coffins, the living revel."
The room fell silent for a time.
After a while, Director Gordon exhaled deeply and gestured to his subordinates to put the blood-covered Crane on a stretcher and send him to the hospital.
When Crane woke up again, he was wrapped in bandages, with Gordon and a few policemen speaking on the side, while Shearer, Jonathan, and Valentine stood by the door.
After Crane awoke, he let out a scream. Seeing Shearer, he turned even paler, desperately shaking off the blanket's restraint and ignoring the pain, he shouted, "You damned killer devil!!!"
"Director Gordon, why don't you arrest him?! He sealed me inside a human skin!! This damned freak, madman..."
Shearer turned and walked towards him.
Crane's roaring ceased abruptly.
Pale-faced, he kept arching towards the direction of the head of the bed, fiercely shouting, "Don't come any closer!! I'm a policeman!!! Don't..."
"Are you feeling better, Mr. Crane? It seems that Jonathan overmedicated you, causing you to have some illusions."
"I didn't have any illusions, it was you..."
"Tell us what happened," Gordon interrupted Crane's meaningless shouting, saying, "Start from when you left the police station this afternoon, and don't leave out any details."
"I drove to a manor to investigate..."
"What time? What car were you driving? Which manor did you go to?" Gordon said impatiently, "You are also a professional graduate in criminal investigation. You don't need me to teach you this."
"Around 3 p.m., I was driving a department-issued vehicle assigned to me by the station, and I went to... Rodriguez Manor."
"Firstly, I allowed you to investigate but didn't grant you the use of a car, and secondly, you'd better not tell me you entered the manor."
Gordon's gaze grew increasingly hostile, but Crane shouted at him, "What are you focusing on these rules and regulations for at a time like this? I was nearly killed by a horror murderer!!"
Gordon struggled to contain his displeasure, saying, "Can you say that your dangerous situation had nothing to do with your reckless actions?"
"That's blaming the victim!"
"Did you actually enter the manor?"
"So what if I did?!"
Gordon finally lost his composure; his face turned darker than the bottom of a pot, but he still stood up and said to Shearer, "I'm very sorry, Professor, I should have signed his termination notice earlier."
"Do you think you won't be responsible if you do that?"
"What I mean is that we could have arrested him directly without going through the internal review process," Gordon said, pursing his lips tightly. "If he weren't a policeman, it would have been a case of unlawful entry, but he is a policeman, so it's a matter of misconduct."
"I was just trying to investigate the killer devil's home!"
"So did you find any evidence?"
"What more evidence do you need? He kidnapped me and sewed me into, sewed me inside a human skin…"
"Good, then where is the crime scene?"
"How should I know?! I was knocked out by him, but it's definitely in his manor!"
"Was there a witness?"
Crane opened his mouth then immediately looked towards Brock in the police squad and said, "He was with me for the investigation, he must have seen it!"
"Sorry, but I didn't see anything," Brock said. "I heard a thud from the backyard, and then you disappeared; I had to leave on my own."
"But I was attacked in Rodriguez Manor!" Crane bellowed.
"But you shouldn't have been at Rodriguez Manor," Gordon said.
"You must have been bribed by him, you damned corrupt cop!"
The atmosphere in the room froze.