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Yi Jong-Wuk grimaced deeply and asked, “Since… when did he start acting like that?”
“It’s been a few days,” said the visibly nervous prison guard.
Although he hadn’t done anything wrong here, he still couldn’t help but be cautious. He wasn’t talking to some random nobody here, after all!
While ignoring the guard, Yi Jong-Wuk peered between the steel bars and into the cell, his expression as stiff as stone.
Scribble, scribble, scribble…
No other sounds than a pen rhythmically scribbling on a piece of paper could be heard. However, the rhythm seemed so eerily mechanical that the listener couldn’t help but feel weirded out just from listening to it.
This cell belonged to Kim Myeong-Chan. And he was sitting behind a desk, mumbling inaudibly away, while jotting something down.
Blood was trickling down from the hand gripping the pen tightly.
Despite the paper turning crimson from his blood, Kim Myeong-Chan still continued jotting down something as if that was all he could do.
Yi Jong-Wuk asked without turning his head away. “He… refuses any and all visitors?”
The guard nodded. “Yes, sir. Doesn’t matter who, he keeps saying he’s not interested in talking to them. And that’s even including his family members, too.”
Yi Jong-Wuk’s expression stiffened even more.
Kim Myeong-Chan was sitting upright like a model student, and there didn’t seem any hints...
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