Over an hour ago, Fushimi Roku gouged out Kato Touma's eyes. Before the guards could come to the rescue, he didn't run but hid in the ceiling's interlayer.
Now, Fushimi Roku stands at the end of the conference room. In his vision, everyone is staring at him, either with fear or indignation. The dark gun muzzles pointed at him make his heart race and his breathing grow heavier.
Perhaps he's become rusty.
His mouth felt somewhat dry. To avoid any mishaps during today's operation, he hadn't drunk much water to prevent an urgent need during the operation. After staying in the ceiling's interlayer for over an hour, the oppressive heat had cracked his lips.
Fushimi Roku couldn't help but stick out his tongue to lick his lips. He spread his fingers, showing the fine line of rings on them:
"Everyone, please place your phones on the table."
Fuyuyama Kentaro instinctively complied, drawing the attention of others.
