How could it not boil over?
Although the self-portrait by the signature looked almost entirely different from how Hesta remembered her, its brushwork, its style, the places where each stroke began and ended... all pointed unmistakably to one solid truth.
Miss Chiba...
Hesta immediately flipped the photograph back to the front, lest she lose control of her breathing.
The secretary was still chattering beside her. "We can't even be sure when this envelope appeared. The Governor never came to this office before, but today, the moment he arrived, he opened the desk drawer—"
His gaze inadvertently swept over Hesta's face.
"...Inspector?"
At that moment, the secretary took half a step back almost imperceptibly. It was practically an animal instinct, because Hesta's expression was so subtle. She was like a volcano that had not erupted in ages, covered by a thin shell of ash while scorching magma boiled beneath...
"It was indeed... the assassin." Hesta's voice trembled faintly. "How many people... have you shown this photograph to?"
"Only the Governor and me," the secretary answered. "And you."
"All those people in the corridor—"
"They don't even know what happened. They only know the Governor suddenly fell ill. I was thinking..."
"Good." Hesta tucked the photograph away in a light tone. "Don't show this photograph to anyone. Keep it secret as it is—don't give the public any details."
"Understood." The secretary nodded in strong agreement. "That was what we thought too. The public's attention is bloodthirsty. What the assassin wants is precisely the effect of public opinion being stirred up..."
Hesta was not listening at all.
Her fingers gently rubbed the edge of the photograph. If this was a clue Miss Chiba had left for her, then this self-portrait would be extremely dangerous. In the past, how many people had received letters