At this very moment, while the three gods sat in the bar, each believing the others were responsible.
A man utterly devoid of responsibility, with the cigarette he could never put down clenched between his lips, arrived somewhere new and took on a new job.
Los Angeles.
The yellow taxi had just stopped when a cigarette butt, nearly burned out, slipped out before the passenger inside even opened the door.
The butt bounced twice on the ground before someone stepped on it. Only then did the door open, and a man in a black trench coat, his face wearing the expression of someone who had not woken up yet, climbed out.
After making his way into the apartment building, the man opened his cigarette pack and pulled out another Marlboro.
The moment he tossed away his last cigarette, every trace that it had ever existed vanished.
There always had to be a cigarette in his mouth!
He pulled out his lighter, habitually flicked up a flame, and lit the cigarette before looking at the fat man approaching him from nearby.
The fat man stopped in front of him and raised his brows happily.
"I knew it. No matter how chaotic things get, it won't affect your work. I notified you first, John!"
"Mm."
The man called John nodded indifferently, then silently followed the fat priest toward the corridor untouched by sunlight.
A family stood facing them, looking at John anxiously, while John walked right past them without a care.
When he reached a sealed bedroom door, John opened it and poked his head inside for a glance.
In the room, made incredibly dim by the drawn curtains, a girl lay on the bed with her limbs bound. At that very moment, she was slowly snarling and struggling.
Outside the