In the brightly lit hall.
Gallagher walked along the red carpet and stopped before Sunday.
"Heh, maze-like corridors and rooms, traps and mechanisms everywhere..."
"The owner of this mansion is a little too suspicious."
Sunday stood with his back to Gallagher, tilting his head slightly.
"You're quite humorous, Sheriff."
"I hope that humor has helped you find the culprit behind the serial murders."
Gallagher smiled faintly.
"I was merely voicing a personal opinion."
"What, did I hit a sore spot?"
Sunday lowered his voice and turned to look at the old man.
"Mr. Gallagher, my patience is limited."
"Your deliberate slacking will only make me suspect that you are connected to the real murderer."
"..." Gallagher fell silent for several breaths, then could not help sneering.
"Heh heh."
He slowly walked up to Sunday and mocked him.
"You've gone bloodshot-eyed. Everyone looks like a killer to you now, don't they?"
"Scoundrel, thug, drunk, hooligan..."
"I've heard plenty of that trash talk, but I never thought that one day I'd be treated as an accomplice to a murderer."
Gallagher's gaze sharpened.
"I take back what I said. Your problem isn't excessive suspicion—you're insane, understand? Insane."
"Should I call you... Mad Sunday now?"
"You—the Family—broke this old dog's spine and pulled out his fangs, and now you're accusing me of murder?"
"What a load of bullshit... Only an idiot who's had too much Sodalu would go crazy at a stray dog on the street."
"What exactly is making you stand here and keep spouting such lunacy?"
"Rather than worry about me, you should be concerned about the film park that has already been flattened."
Sunday snorted coldly.
"I don't need your reminder."
Then he smiled again.
"The moment that envoy left the mansion, I knew what he intended to do. My 'servants'