The room-bound Shiller removes his glasses, yawns, and seems to be totally unaffected by the tense atmosphere in the mansion where two murders have occurred. He begins to untie his tie, preparing to change into his sleepwear when a knock sounds at his door again.
Shiller closes his eyes and stands in place with his hands on his hips, sighs, but eventually turns around and opens the door. Standing outside is Agent Kira, who sized Shiller up and down before asking, "Are you about to sleep?"
"Isn't it that obvious?"
Kira furrows her brows deeply, gazing into Shiller's eyes and saying, "Unfortunately, I don't think you can sleep yet. Another murder has occurred."
"I got it, Old Parker..."
"It's not Parker." Kira denies, raising her arm and glancing at her watch, "Just two minutes ago, Mrs. Davis died, in the bathroom on the first floor."
"Chief Benjamin wants to see you, right now." Kira looked at Shiller and told him. "You surely haven't forgotten, after the mayor's death, you were the only one who went to that bathroom."
Ignoring her, Shiller goes back into his room to retie his tie. When he comes back out, Kira instinctively feels a chill on her back.
Shiller pays no attention to Kira, instead, he walks out the door and heads downstairs. Kira follows behind him, seemingly wanting to say something, but Shiller has no intention of waiting for her.
He strides down the spiral staircase, like a marble rolling continuously downward in a spiral maze. The corpse in the middle of the hall still lies there quietly.
The blood on the fringes of the tablecloth has coagulated, all the smoke lines of the candles on the silver candlestick have gone out, collapsed tables circled around the body in layers, exquisite pieces of broken plates scattered among them, shimmering under the brilliant light.
Shiller descends layer by layer. Kira, who follows behind him, feels as if he is constantly plunging into an abyss - the surrounding environment hasn't changed, yet Shiller's demeanour becomes increasingly profound.
Not until the sound of his leather shoes stepping on the floor comes does Shiller pause at the entrance to the first floor, without even glancing at the corpse, he heads straight for the bathroom.
At the entrance to the bathroom, Leonard and Chief Benjamin are standing. When they see Shiller, Leonard tries to initiate a conversation and Chief Benjamin also seems to have something to say, but Shiller completely ignores them, walking straight into the bathroom.
A female corpse lies face down on the bathroom counter, shot in the waist. She had just died not long ago and was still dressed in her magnificent gown. At this moment, her dark blue skirt stained with red blood has turned into a somewhat eerie purple. Moonlight filters in from the window above the washing table, illuminating her body and casting bizarre shadows on the ground.
Shiller stands in the centre of the bathroom, both Leonard and Chief Benjamin standing behind him. Chief Benjamin begins to speak, "Three murders in one night…"
Leonard wipes his sweat and says, "It seems, it must be the work of that serial killer."
"What is a serial killing case?" Shiller suddenly asks.
"Many murders in a short period of time…" Chief Benjamin replies. Shiller continues his sentence, saying, "The latter half of this concept is also - the manner of the murders is consistent; each case is interrelated…"
Chief Benjamin furrows his eyebrows, Shiller turns his head, looking at the female corpse and asks, "Is her cause of death consistent with Old Parker's? Is Old Parker's cause of death consistent with White's? Are the causes of death of these three people consistent with the previous murders?"
"Is there any connection between all of these cases? Has the murderer left any consistent symbols? Has he used a background story related to numbers? What commonalities do these people share?"
"If none of these exist, why do you think it's a serial killing case?"
"But they all happened in a very short period of time."
"That's just multiple murders happening within a short period of time." Shiller speaks swiftly, seeming not to give anyone a chance to pause and think, but the next thing he says makes everyone present feel their hair stand on end.
"This murderer is too mediocre."
"I find it hard to imagine that such a stupid, boring, and untalented person exists in this world."
"Kill a person, toss him down from upstairs, then kill another one, and toss him down as well. What is he doing?"
"Why doesn't he cherish life?"
"Why does he think the process of death can be easily solved with a gun or a knife?"
"Why does he think the precious resource of a corpse can be so artistically discarded?"
"I guess he's a fool who reads too many detective novels. Viewing a detective solving cases from a god's perspective, makes him feel those detectives are nothing more than that."
"He's thinking, if such a simple case takes detectives so long to solve, then if he creates a more complex incident, the detectives would probably spend their lifetime like headless flies - clueless."
"I don't want to judge any detective novels because they are the hard work of the authors, but I have to say, if he was inspired by any of those detective novels, they are already outdated, much like him."
"In terms of theory, he doesn't understand what a serial murder case is at all, thinking that as long as he kills many people in a short period of time, it could be called a serial murder case. About this thought, I can only say, he is more suited for a slaughterhouse, where he can maybe even win an award."
"In terms of practical actions, he is even worse. A lack of theme, no tension-building countdown, no mark, no clues related to numbers or patterns... "
Shiller shows a helpless smile, as if he finds something ridiculous, he says, "He didn't even stick to a single murder weapon, using a knife one moment and a gun the next..."
Pausing, his expression changes to disgust, he says, "And his actions during the killing are so perfunctory, when the bodies fall, blood splatters everywhere, even soiling the tassels on the tablecloth and knocking the candlestick."
"He never considered, what if the candlestick ignited the tablecloth? The carefully arranged murder would turn into a chaotic fire scene, leaving only ugly scorch marks, everything would be ruined. No real serial killer would allow for such an accident."
"His manipulation of the crowd was also a mess, failing to reflect any philosophical question about human nature."
"If you insist that I evaluate these cases, all I can say is," Shiller elongated his speech, then concluded:
"A mediocre, unimaginative, and clichéd case concocted by a nobody."
"Enough!"
A cold voice came from the doorway of the washroom, Benjamin turned his head. He looked at Lionel, whose face was grim.
Prior to this, Benjamin was so intent on listening to Shiller that he had not noticed the usually smiling businessman beside him had turned quite grotesque.
Shiller turned back around, quietly watched Lionel, and said to him, "Mr. Luthor, do you know? The reason I do not debunk a fool's thoughts is not because I cannot guess, but because I am a tolerant person, hoping the world can leave more room for illusory thoughts for such pitiful people as yourself."
"You said you invited me here for two purposes, to communicate with your son and to cure his illness, but in fact, you have a third goal, which is to commit a serial murder in front of me."
"Of course, you've seen my resume." Shiller raised his voice, he looked into Lionel's gloomy eyes and said, "You know I have participated in several of the most famous serial murders, seen countless serial murderers..."
"I know, you're desperately looking forward to committing a seamless case in front of me, outsmarting me, to prove that you're a genius criminal standing at the pinnacle of the world."
"But I didn't show any particular emotion about Mayor White's death. On my way to the washroom, I told you that this case was too mediocre and I had no interest, so you started hastily preparing for the next case."
Shiller smiled helplessly, he said, "But all you've done for innovation is to change the murder weapon from a gun to a knife."
"Then, when I expressed more clearly my disdain, you almost indignantly committed the third case."
"After, all you did for innovation was to change the location of the corpse dump from the banquet hall to the washroom."
"This is who you're, Lionel, accept your fate."
"You're just an ordinary guy, so mediocre that it's not interesting at all, with no genius mind."
"He has no genius mind." Lex sat against the wall, hand clasping his neck, sneering, he said, "But he refuses to admit it."
"He's so jealous of the geniuses that he almost goes crazy. He would spare nothing to get their genius and wisdom, including my mother."
"But ironically, after he abused and killed her, he found out that I, like my mother, am a super-genius."
Lex coughed lightly, his face was somewhat pale, seeming physically exhausted, he said, "But he dare not kill me anymore, he still needs me to help him seize all those worldly benefits."
Bruce stood in the center of the utility room, looking down at him in silence. He walked over to Lex, stood in front of him, casting a shadow over Lex, and asked in a low voice, "Did you kill White and Parker?"
Lex disdainfully said, "Leonard did it, using the simplest delay device, the kind you find in old detective novels, that's why he couldn't easily change the body dump location, because the device was set up on the beams."
"That fool has been trying to control me for the past ten plus years. I had to play along with his act, but this time, he's definitely screwed."
"Why?" Bruce squinted at Lex.
"Just now, I killed Mrs. Davis and threw her in the washroom. I guess that professor who was once again called out from the room must be completely impatient by now."
Bruce frowned. Before he could ask, Lex said, "Lionel's trick won't fool anybody who's the slightest bit clever. His so-called brilliant arrangements are no different from children's building blocks."
"I know, only that professor has been to that washroom. As long as the third case occurred there, someone would surely call him."
"When he was examining me, I realized that he and I are the same kind of people. We have a bit of patience for fools, but only a bit."
"Once lost patience, he'll have a taste."
Lex chuckled again, looked at Bruce and said:
"I had just killed and saw you drunk in the corridor. I thought, a drunken playboy burned to a crisp in the flames of his own liquor would be a good way to die."
"But now, you being alive is more interesting than you being dead."
"Did you know? Each time Lionel introduces me to someone, he would say, he'd rather I were a playboy like Little Wayne."
"But, hahaha, even Little Wayne isn't a playboy!"
"Hahahahahahahahaha!"
Lex stood up, his laughter getting louder and louder. Just as he looked up at Bruce, what appeared in his sight was Bruce's fist as big as a sandbag.