"Hey, hey, hey, wake up."
"You there?"
Blinding white light sliced through Yamada Ken's consciousness like blades. He heard his own name drifting through the gaps in the ringing in his ears, the voice seeming to come through thick cotton. When his eyelashes finally managed to fight against his sticky eyelids, he saw the LED tube above him flickering at high frequency, each shift between light and dark sending fresh pain through his temples.
When his vision finally cleared a little, he immediately saw that sunny, handsome face filling his field of view, its owner tilting his head as he studied him.
In an instant, that face awakened some unpleasant memories. Yamada Ken nearly sprang up, and his mouth blurted out uncontrollably, "The Devil!"
Kira was displeased. "What nonsense are you talking about? That's really rude."
Who are you calling The Devil?
Is there a devil as handsome as me?
There's no Duelist more compassionate than I am. Absolutely none.
Only then did Yamada Ken notice that he could not move.
The chill of the metal chair seeped through his thin shirt and into his spine. The bonds around his wrists had carved purplish-red grooves into his skin. When he tried to move his right foot, he discovered that his ankle was secured to an iron ring welded into the floor, and every struggle made the chains rattle. The one-way glass on the left wall reflected his warped image, while his employee ID from the laboratory sat on the interrogation table to his right—naturally, it was forged.
Yamada Ken took a deep breath and accepted his status as a prisoner.
"No matter what you ask, I won't say anything."
Yamada Ken declared proudly.
"Show me your filthiest methods, Otherworlder."
Only then did he suddenly realize that, for an interrogation room,