Dean said, "Oh, I've already cracked the case. You and Robert can go back. No need to investigate anymore. Before the end of the workday, the murderer will come forward to confess."
"...Alright, I got it."
On the other end of the phone, Harry glanced up at the sky and silently hung up.
If anyone but Dean had said this, he would have thought the person was talking nonsense in broad daylight!
「The next day.」
The sun was well up in the sky. The dark clouds over Los Angeles had finally dispersed. Sunlight streamed through the clouds, bathing the master bedroom of the luxurious hotel suite in golden brilliance.
Dean lay in bed, his face contorting with changing expressions—some fierce, some tranquil—as if he were enduring a terrible nightmare. His strong hand gripped the bedsheet, as if he was trying to withstand some unbearable pain.
WHIMPER.
After a stifled sob, his elder sister Dora covered her mouth and backed away, while his younger sister Wemi eagerly took her place.
