Inside a hospital room.
The mafia thugs guarding Light's safety at the door and inside the room quietly placed their hands on the firearms at their waists.
The strange-looking men lying before them radiated unbearable malice.
However, these mafia thugs were all elites. Even under such oppressive malice, they retained a degree of resistance.
Still, they were indeed tense to their limit, beads of sweat sliding down their foreheads.
The bizarre men paid them no heed. Their gazes remained fixed on Light.
"I'm Light. What do you want?"
Light had already steadied himself, because the Prophecy Poem from the paper earlier echoed in his mind.
As expected of someone who could become a boss—facing such malice, he was still able to remain calm.
Money Slave Beasts?
They must be the people standing before him, Light thought.
"Don't worry. I'm not here to cause you trouble. I just have a few questions for you."
The leader was a gaunt man with bandages wrapped around his neck and chin. When he spoke, his throat sounded as though it had been scalded, making his voice extraordinarily hoarse.
"We came under orders from above. Your boss has spoken with us as well."
A hooded man beside him added with a smile, his face concealed in shadow.
At that moment, one of the mafia members at the door nodded to Light, seemingly vouching for the man's words.
He was Bruce's subordinate.
"All right, if I know the answers."
Light nodded, his expression turning serious.
"Hehe, that would be best. Tell me in detail about what happened to you that day, especially the person who injured you."
Here it came. As expected, this was what they wanted to ask.
Light seemed prepared already. He nodded and recounted the entire incident from that day, word by word.