Santa Claus sat at an interrogation table, his hands placed atop it shackled with silver bracelets, fearfully glancing around. When he saw Shami enter, he hurriedly clarified.
"Mr. Demon King, we Santas uphold professional ethics, we don't take things randomly, nor do we divulge house information to others."
Shami remained silent, sitting opposite Santa Claus, slowly winding up the clock and then placing it on the interrogation table.
"What exactly are you? Speak up. If you don't before the clock rings, your head's moving elsewhere."
Santa's eyes widened, crying out in fright.
"Crying? Crying counts against time too."
Shami said leisurely, not in the least bit hurried.
Santa was utterly panicked.
"As you can see, I'm Santa Claus, Mr. Demon King…"
"Santa Claus really exists?"
"Hmm. Of course, otherwise why would there be legends of good children receiving gifts from Santa on Christmas Eve?"
Who knew you'd come for real!
