An old, worn sedan eased along the road, its engine humming softly.
Inside the sedan, a middle-aged man drove the car while a young man sat in the back.
Although the two of them seemed decades apart in age, their expressions were equally dead and cold.
As the music played softly, it was hard to believe that just minutes ago they had been at each other's throats.
In the driver's seat, Namita took out a cigarette from his pocket and rolled down the car windows.
Swish…
He lit up his cigarette, taking a slow drag.
The smoke wafted outside the car, vanishing with the cool wind.
"..."
Namita silently glanced at the interior mirror, lost in thought.
Zold had said that the two of them were alike, but he disagreed.
In his entire career as a detective, Namita had developed an unusual sense for the darkness in others.
When he looked at people, he could instinctively feel their evil and their emptiness as a human.
Ordinary people only gave him a faint sensation, negligible at most.
