The male employee hurriedly explained, "When I was helping Department Manager Oba adjust the mascot costume, I noticed that one of the mascot's eyes was malfunctioning and turning very stiffly, so we unscrewed that eye to take a look."
He glanced at Satoru Oba, belatedly realizing something, but he could only continue recounting what had happened. "After we unscrewed it, we found a plastic bag inside. Mr. Oba said it might be stuffing from inside the mascot's eye, so we put the plastic bag back together."
"So even if our fingerprints really are on the bag, that doesn't prove anything. There were other male colleagues nearby at the time. Everyone can testify that we touched the bag then, not at the murder scene."
Satoru Oba smiled as though victory were already in his grasp. "So why couldn't it have gone like this—someone bore a grudge against me and took the chance while Sakurako and I were in the restroom to go downstairs and kill the president?"
"Then, in order to frame me, that person deliberately put the plastic bag he used at the shooting scene into the mascot, so I would touch it and leave my fingerprints behind. Well? Isn't my script far more sophisticated than your absurd nonsense about 'shooting her father during a break in kissing'?"
At a distant corner, an ordinary passerby in a knit cap tugged down his brim and sighed inwardly.
Akai Shuichi: "..." It looked like you had written the perfect script to clear yourself, but in reality, your script was merely one story within someone else's script... In the end, you were just a pitiful tool meant to cause trouble for us at the FBI.
Good thing I got away in time. Akai Shuichi, who had slipped away to put down his Sniper