Pakart's expression grew exceptionally solemn yet exceptionally confused—what did Hesta want to get from her?
She had a premonition that no matter what she said next, it seemed she would inevitably stab the young person before her, yet Hesta had come here after all and demanded that she speak.
"What... do you want to hear from me?" Pakart asked.
Silence.
Pakart heard the sound of her own breathing alongside Hesta's, and after a long time, Hesta spoke again.
"A person's life..." She paused slightly. "When a person's life is taken away by another through some atrocious act, do you think you have the qualification to deprive that person's closest kin, or even dear friends, of the right to take vengeance for it?"
"I don't," Pakart answered with equal calmness. "I have never felt that I have any qualification to point fingers and meddle in other people's life choices. But if we are discussing a systemic issue, then on this matter, both you and I have the right to express our views."
Hesta let out a soft hum, which sounded like a baseless, shallow laugh.
She suddenly felt that coming here today to converse with Pakart might have been a mistake—Pakart's response was so airtight and evasive that she couldn't even feel so much as a tiny shred of sincerity for an in-depth discussion from her.
Hesta pressed both hands on her thighs and prepared to get up. "Then—"
"You had someone important die in a vicious crime, didn't you?" Pakart asked.
Hesta, who had been looking at the baseboard of the room the entire time, finally turned her head back.
"Yeah, the Roger case," Hesta said softly. "You should know, this case is quite famous in District 3."
"I have an impression," Pakart said indifferently.
"Do you know what the