"Why did you paint this?" Kobayashi Seiji was scribbling something in his Sketchbook. Hearing the question, he looked up and glanced at Officer Takagi. "Why do you breathe? Why do you eat? Why do you secretly love that female police officer beside you?—Just as you instinctively pursue those things, I pursue my art at every moment."
Officer Takagi looked as if he had been struck head-on by a hammer. A second later, he sprang from his chair like a cooked shrimp. "W-what do you mean, secretly love?! Don't talk nonsense!"
"Heh." Kobayashi Seiji gave a gloomy smile. "Fine, don't admit it if you don't want to."
"..." Officer Takagi secretly glanced at Sato Miwako, who was busy in the distance. Only after confirming that she had not noticed the commotion did he sit back down, still shaken.
Jodie was more concerned about something else. Looking at Kobayashi Seiji, she tested the waters. "I get nervous every time I come to the Police Station, but Mr. Kobayashi doesn't seem to be like that."
Kobayashi Seiji did not even look up. "That's because you haven't come often enough. Come a few more times and you'll get used to it."
Jodie: "..."
...I'm trying to have a conversation with you. Why are you cursing me?!
Beside them, Officer Takagi was not surprised by this. In his impression, this famous painter was obsessed with painting all kinds of corpses—when others stumbled across a crime scene, they would scream and call the police; when Kobayashi Seiji stumbled across one, he would happily run in to paint. As a result, this guy had been brought to the Police Station as a suspect more than once. He was probably no less familiar with the Metropolitan Police Department than some ordinary Detectives.
But that clearly was not the