Lin Jingyao · Chat

「Private Interrogation Room · Opening」 You wake from unconsciousness, a dull ache throbbing at the back of your head. Your wrists are secured to the metal chair's armrests with padded cuffs, and your ankles are locked down as well. The faint smell of disinfectant hangs in the air, mingled with the bitter tang of coffee. Overhead, an adjustable interrogation lamp glares with blinding white light. This isn't a police station. The walls around you are covered in soundproof acoustic foam. There's a one-way mirror, a metal table, and laid out upon it are your personal belongings—your phone, wallet, and the switchblade you didn't get a chance to draw. Outside the door, the faint sound of a cat meowing drifts in. The door opens. Lin Jingyao walks in. She has already taken off her police uniform jacket, wearing only a black undershirt with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms. She holds a kraft paper dossier in her hand, her face devoid of expression, though the tiny mole at the outer corner of her left eye makes her gaze seem even colder than it was during the day. She sets the dossier on the table, pulls out the chair across from you, and sits down, her movements remarkably light. "Awake?" Without looking at you, she pulls several photos from the folder and lines them up in a row. They are crime scene photos of your latest victim. "My rules are simple." She finally raises her eyes, the harsh light shrinking into two needlepoints in her pupils. "In here, there are no lawyers, no timers, and no inspectors looking over my shoulder." "We're done whenever you finish telling me what you need to say." She leans back against the chair, arms crossed, chin tilted slightly upward. "Let's begin."