Kante stood still and scowled, not wanting to move from his position. Nothing was making a single bit of sense to him—he just couldn't believe it.
He had often wondered why he always got sudden eye pains and had even promised himself to get some eye drops. But after observing for a while, he realized the pain always came whenever a particular song by Lonely Guitar Man was being played. Not knowing the link between the song and his eye, he had decided to stay as far away from it as possible. But now, he had uncovered an unnerving truth:
Someone could see through his eye whenever that song was being played.
"How disturbing."
If anything, Kante felt embarrassed as he recalled the many occasions the song had been played, either by him or by someone else.
Thinking about it, he realized how much the man had seen—a lot. He had seen far too much.
"What can I do to him."
Kante couldn't let the man live due to how much he must have seen, but now that the cops had him there's no way he could get to him.
"What should I do, I can't let him spill everything he had seen to the cops."
Kante's mind race back and forth, thinking of the best way out, the best way to get rid of the man before spilling any information to the cops.
While pacing around in the restroom a certain thought popped up in his head.
"But will the cops even believe whatever he says? I mean, seeing through another person eyes sounds crazy, it's sound novel like, so I bet they can believe him."
For a moment, he wanted to stay calm but he couldn't.
"No I can't risk it."
He had stay well to protect his identity all these years, carrying out operations unseen, so he couldn't risk letting this man who must have seen a lot go.
"I should get to see his face first, I might as well infiltrate the cops station tonight."
Kante mutter as he finally step out of the restroom.
---
The cops handcuffed Uche and took him to the last floor, where they met up with the rest of the officers, mostly senior ones.
"Is this the suspect?"
Sergeant Kim asked, staring Uche up and down, with Inspector Ray by his side.
"He really does look like a criminal. Eye patch, black hoodie, face cap—how else would a criminal dress? Do we finally have Snowflake here? Or just one of his minors?"
Inspector Ray said with a smirk.
Uche stared at the young officer who had spoken, doing his best to contain his anger.
"I bet you don't even know what a criminal looks like. Brown shoes, black suit, and black socks—don't you think that's closer to how you bastards are dressed?"
Uche barked, making Inspector Ray almost lash out, but Sergeant Kim restrained him.
"You two, take him to headquarters. We'll meet up later. There's a bit of business we need to sort here."
Two men dragged Uche out of the scene, leading him down the long hallway that stretched toward the building's hall.
Walking with his hands cuffed, Uche's mind was devoid of thoughts. He didn't really know what to make of the situation. He kept quiet, moving steadily as the cops pushed him forward.
He realized he had made a mistake. Acting rashly without thinking of the consequences seemed to have become a habit. And now, because of his stupidity, another burden had been added to his cup.
"Fuck."
Even as hard as he tried to clear his mind, he couldn't. Several questions reeled through his head.
"That round-bellied man… what if he's working for Snowflake?"
He hadn't even attacked the man and had apologized for his mistake, yet the pig-looking man had still called the cops. It just didn't make sense.
"Maybe he was terrified because of my appearance."
Lost in thought with his head down, Uche failed to notice a particular young man dressed in a black suit, glasses perched on his nose. The man walked past them, polished brown shoes tapping the floor, then turned to spare Uche a glance before moving on. Instead of leaving the building, he approached the elevator.
Just as the man ascended in the elevator, a young woman stepped into the building. She wore an ash-colored outfit—a matching top and trousers—with a hat on her head, glasses on her nose, and lips burdened with an overload of black lipstick.
The sound of her high heels echoed sharply through the hallway as she walked toward Uche and the two cops.
As she passed, one of the cops suddenly collapsed. Uche, still deep in thought, barely noticed. He only snapped back to reality when he felt something brush past his head from behind. Then he saw a leg stretched out, the high heel slamming into the other cop's face.
Tracing the leg as it retreated, he saw the young woman—who could only be described as a witch—standing beside him. Both cops were down in a matter of seconds.
"Don't run and don't say anything. Just follow me,"
The woman said, turning as if nothing had happened.
Uche did as he was told, following her outside the building.
They approached a black hover bike parked a few meters away, near the crowd that had gathered around the bloody remains of the dead woman. The cops had put up caution tape, keeping the people at bay.
The woman gestured for him to sit behind her. The bike roared to life, shooting off like a bullet.
A few minutes later, they arrived in front of a building Uche recognized all too well.