Schiller stood calmly at the entrance to the police station.
He smoothed the wrinkles in his cuffs from raising his hands to drive, checked whether the umbrella he had used that afternoon had picked up any mud, and finally walked over to retrieve the sculpture Gordon had thrown away, dusting it off.
Inside the police station, chaos had erupted.
After several calls from Gordon, his most capable men came rushing over in their cars. The moment they arrived, they grabbed their guns and charged into the station, only to rush back out shortly afterward with the same reckless momentum, staring at the sky and the ground as if questioning reality itself.
Of the seven or eight people who had arrived, not one dared touch the thing on the floor.
The main reason was that after Gordon had lowered the sculpture, it gained a certain degree of freedom to move. It kept twisting across the floor, blood seeping from between the stitches and leaving black-and-red streaks across the skin. The brightly colored threads wound through it, making it look even more horrifying.
Schiller walked to the entrance of the station lobby and looked inside through the revolving doors. Gordon and his subordinates all held guns, looking at one another with expressions that seemed to say, "Deal with that thing? Me?"
"Schiller!!" Gordon called out helplessly. "I didn't call you here to just stand around and watch!"
"I thought your wording on the phone earlier was somewhat impolite..."
"At a time like this, you're still... Fine. Professor Schiller, I shouldn't have used so much profanity. Is that enough?"
"What I mean is, I think your definition of a serial killer is perhaps a little..."
Gordon truly could not hold it in anymore and cursed again. Then he turned to his subordinates and