Yuji Kudo, the manga artist behind Detective Conan.

"Damn it, damn it!"

In the dimly lit cell of the Tokyo Delinquent Prison near the Metropolitan Police Department, Yusuke Sakon, handcuffed to the soft rubber bed railing, is repeatedly banging his head against the railing, trying to use the pain to cover up his regret and fear.

On the very night the Kanamori case was solved, he was arrested by the Third Division police who rushed to his doorstep and taken to the Metropolitan Police Department. Chief Sato, who had been called back to work late at night, along with the Tokyo District Court, which had been notified, delivered a verdict on him that same night and refused to appeal.

Previously, we only saw in the news that the Prime Minister had opened fast-track sentencing channels in various local courts for criminals who planned murders and attempted to cover up the truth. I never thought that one day it would happen to him.

"How could it be so fast..."

It seemed that all the police officers involved in the case, from top to bottom, were eager to confirm his identity as a death row inmate, which made the man, who was at least a college graduate, very uneasy.

"Judging from your appearance, you've probably killed someone and tampered with their body."

An old voice came from the next bed, and a rustling sound came from the other side of the room. The prison spotlights, shining through the two-meter-high tempered glass, slowly turned into the room.

"Actually, my bed wasn't originally in this spot; it was next to yours. But I asked the warden to move it here."

The light finally illuminated the person in the darkness, revealing an elderly man with slightly drooping white hair and a neatly combed mustache. He was slowly chiseling and polishing a block of white plaster, about the height of a person, in front of him.

"Because only starting at eight o'clock every night, every fifteen minutes, the prison's spotlights will shine into this room, giving me a sliver of direct light."

"What is that... a statue?"

The listless Sakon examined the plaster cast closely, vaguely sensing that it resembled a Western deity statue: "Are you worshipping God?"

“After a while, you always have to find something to do. The warden agreed that the older prisoners could do some things that interested them, but only on nights when they couldn’t sleep, and the materials had to be provided by the prison.”

The old man's cloudy eyes noticed a small piece of hard plaster on the right side of the nose of the statue he had carved. He sighed, rubbed some saliva on it, and then slowly erased the protruding part with some kind of translucent substance.

"This thing can't be too long, otherwise it'll become soft and won't be good as a file. Although it shouldn't be used as a file in the first place, it's their fault for not giving it to me..."

The old man kept nagging, which annoyed the neighbor, so he complained and told the old man to stop talking.

"How many days are in a lifetime?"

The old man remained silent for a moment, until the silence in the room became somewhat eerily heavy, before Zuo Jin realized that he, too, longed for someone to talk to.

So the old man continued, "I think everyone is different, there is no standard for judgment, but people can speak the same way."

"What do you mean?" "Some people live for more than twenty years, some for more than seventy years. Whether you like to talk or not, in the end, everyone's words are counted together to compare. If you don't live long, talk more and make up for what you have to say in the next few decades, and that will be enough."

After the old man finished grinding down the protrusion, the spotlight moved from him to the statue, which finally looked somewhat sacred. So he held his hands, which were handcuffed to the bed railing, and prayed with his back to the statue.

"How long did it take you to carve this statue?" asked Zuo Jin, who knew the old man had finished praying, as he raised his head again.

“They will move the statue away and give me a new plaster block once it gets light during the day.”

"Sculpting a half-body plaster statue in a day?!" Zuo Jin said with some admiration, "You must have been a sculptor before."

"There's a saying that practice makes perfect." The old man also wanted to persuade Zuo Jin to pray with him, saying that they could pray many more times that night.

“God will never forgive me for killing her.”

It was all planned out, but now that he's calmed down, he feels like there are flaws everywhere. He wonders if his girlfriend saw through his plan, but then he remembers she still died, so he stops worrying about it.

"You only killed one person?"

"There was only one, my girlfriend. I... I lied to her and said we would commit suicide together. Then... I didn't drink poison. You must think I'm a beast."

The old man opened his cloudy eyes and carefully examined Zuo Jin. A sense of doubt filled the entire room, and even Zuo Jin across the room found it strange.

"what happened?"

"I just think my new roommate is quite interesting... um?" The old man heard the voice at the door: "I didn't expect that we would have to separate for a while."

"Sakon Yusuke! Someone wants to see you."

Two indifferent prison guards walked into the room. One moved the plaster statue in front of the old man, while the other took Zuo Jin away.

"Today's is... a bit fast."

"It's arranged by above. Next time you come, we'll bring you another plaster cast. You guys should appease these guys properly." The prison guard lit a cigarette, pinched the burning end, and stuffed the mouthpiece into the old man's mouth.

"I've been watching you all for almost ten years now. Just enjoy your retirement, Moriya." (End of Chapter)