Isn't it very scientific to use the Death Note to kill people?

No, that's not like the police's style; they should be more direct.

Or are you referring to the "Nadunichtokiti" group?

It was a revenge organization composed of survivors or family members of victims who had suffered greatly at the hands of "Promia". They had no official background, but they were a group of people who wanted to find Promia and kill him to avenge him. The Russian man outside the church that day was one of the members of "Nadunichtokitti". Promia originally wanted to use him to take the tablet containing the bomb back to detonate their outposts, but he died halfway there.

Christine's expression shifted between light and dark.

She ripped the card off abruptly, got up and left the cubicle, then went to another cubicle and pushed open the door.

There was no similar card behind the door panel.

She then walked to another cubicle.

No--

Still nothing?!

Christine's face darkened further.

If this card isn't posted in every cubicle, how can the other person be sure they'll enter that cubicle and see what's on the card?

She hesitated whether to "tell the police" about it.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"I never expected that Pramia was a woman."

The lingering noise of Shibuya's streets was blocked out by the car window, becoming blurry and distant. An inconspicuous black sedan was quietly parked in the shadows of a street corner, where the side entrance of the Metropolitan Police Department could be observed.

As the blonde woman, looking delicate, was led out by Nakamura Tsutomu with his arm around her shoulder, Urashi Seiran looked away, a cold smile curving her lips.

In the passenger seat, Shimizu Reiko was carefully applying bright red lipstick in front of the small mirror on the sun visor.

Upon hearing this, she glanced casually out the window in the direction where Christine and Nakamura Tsutomu had driven away, and smiled lightly.

"She's very pretty." She pursed her lips, making her lipstick color more even. "What a pity."

In the back seat, Curaço sat ramrod straight, her long, silvery-white hair gleaming coldly in the dim light. Her face was expressionless, her voice steady:

"Prumia, an internationally renowned bomber and assassin, is ruthless and particularly adept at creating large-scale chaos to cover her operations or eliminate witnesses. She disappeared after her last operation in Europe three years ago, and it was widely believed that she had retired or died... I never expected to find her here."

“Mr. Lin has a strong desire to kill her,” Pu Siqinglan said.

"Oh my, isn't that great?" Shimizu Reiko closed her makeup mirror and turned her head. "Because she looks just like me, a complete 'bitch' type. I can't get along with people like that."

Curaçao's indifferent gaze shifted from the window to Shimizu Reiko's sweet yet frivolous face, and a wave of disgust washed over her eyes like an icy tide.

She would never forget how this woman, after finishing her service with Lin Jiashu, suddenly leaned in and forcibly kissed her while still having something in her mouth...

Because of her unique memory ability, not only the disgust of being forcibly violated and the murderous intent towards Shimizu Reiko, but even the taste that was once fed to her mouth is still deeply imprinted in Curaçao's mind.

Seeing Shimizu Reiko laughing without any restraint, Curacao pressed her lips even tighter, suppressing the surging murderous intent deep in her heart, and turned her gaze back to the Metropolitan Police Department outside the window, as if looking at her even once more would be considered unclean.

Pu Siqinglan paid no attention to Shimizu Reiko and Curaçao; she glanced at the time on her phone:

It's almost four o'clock in the afternoon.

Chapter 52: For you, I transformed into a werewolf~

Shibuya Hikarie

The top floor of this shopping mall is where Tsutomu Nakamura and Christine Lissell got married.

As a landmark of Shibuya Station, its 34th floor offers a panoramic view of the bustling Shibuya area during Halloween.

However, the wedding venue, which should have been filled with blessings and laughter, was shrouded in an invisible tension. All the guests who were supposed to be invited were absent. Apart from the bride and groom, who were dressed in wedding dresses and suits respectively, the empty hall was filled with police officers with solemn expressions and armed guards.

The wedding should have been canceled under these circumstances.

However, Pramia sent an anonymous text message:

The wedding must proceed as planned; cancellation will only lead to more casualties.

Choose.

This threatening text message immediately left Nakamura with no way out.

He held Christine's hand tightly, his face filled with guilt and self-blame: "I'm sorry, Lisa... I should have given you a perfect wedding, but I'm afraid it's because of the enemies I made when I was a policeman. They won't let me go, and they've even dragged you into it..." He blamed everything on his past profession.

Christine looked at his face and gently shook her head. Although her eyes were filled with tears, she managed a weak smile: "It's okay, I believe we can get through this."

Nakamura Tsutomu felt even more guilty.

Not far away, Sato Miwako and Inspector Megure, along with other police officers, stood ready, vigilantly surveying their surroundings.

Sato stepped forward and assured Christine firmly, "Ms. Christine, please rest assured, we have a tight security presence here and will not allow Pramia to harm you."

Christine gave a grateful smile and nodded.

But her face darkened as soon as she turned around.

The unease that lingered in her mind made her unconsciously anxious.

The reason she threatened to force the wedding to go ahead was that she wanted to use the opportunity to eliminate the persistent "Nadunichtokiti" organization.

Those survivors who have been chasing her all over the world, getting closer and closer to her true identity, will surely be drawn to the news that "Prumia appeared at the pre-attack police superintendent's wedding." She's going to send all these people in the know, along with these troublesome police officers, to their doom!

Even she herself could use this incident to sever her identity as Pramie and start anew elsewhere.

To temporarily calm her murderous intent and anxiety, Christine excused herself to touch up her makeup and left Nakamura Tsutomu's side, heading towards the lounge.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

She said with a smile.

The others present didn't pay any attention.

However, just as Christine was walking through a corridor decorated with flowers and silk, she passed a decorative metal sculpture whose top, secured by a piece of transparent fishing line, suddenly snapped and drooped down.

Just then, a strong gust of wind blew in from some vent, causing the almost invisible fishing line to flutter up as if it were alive, landing on Christine's fingers as she passed by.

"hiss--"

Christine felt a sharp pain on the back of her hand. Looking down, she saw that the fishing line was wrapped tightly around her index finger and had tightened as she had moved, leaving a small scratch from which a bead of blood oozed.

Thinking it was an accident, she frowned and then untied the tangled fishing line.

Noticing her movement, Nakamura Tsutomu immediately came over, his face full of concern: "Lissal? What's wrong?"

"It's fine."

Christine immediately put on a gentle smile and showed him her finger. "I accidentally got cut by the thread, it's just a small cut."

Nakamura Tsutomu didn't suspect anything, then looked at the fishing line on the decoration with a headache—locating this place was a bit dangerous, and there were no staff members who could help them deal with it at the moment, so he simply stopped worrying about it.

Christine, who had been told to be careful, nodded.

She walked to the long table where drinks were temporarily placed and reached out to grab a glass of water.

Just as her fingertips were about to touch the cup, she did not notice a smooth decorative pillar lying on the ground beside her, slowly rolling toward her.

The woman accidentally stepped on the stiletto heel of her high heels, and before she knew it, she slipped and lost her balance!

"what!"

She gasped and instinctively reached out to grab the table to steady herself, but when her hand slammed onto the tablecloth, she knocked over a pot of steaming coffee!

Scalding liquid splashed out, and although she dodged quickly, a few drops still landed on her forearm, leaving red burn marks. In her panic, her hand, which was trying to grab the edge of the table, landed squarely on the handle of a silver cake knife. The knife tipped over with a clatter and fell to the floor, the blade nearly grazing her ankle.

A series of unexpected events occurred in the blink of an eye, making it an extremely unlucky situation.

Christine steadied herself, still shaken. The stinging pain in her arm and the scratches on her fingers made her feel agitated and somewhat angry.

Why am I so unlucky for no reason?

Frustrated, she looked down, her gaze sweeping across the floor before suddenly settling on the bead that had caused her to slip—the edge of the tablecloth where the knife had fallen had been decorated with a crooked, grinning pumpkin face drawn on it with red syrup or something similar!

That image instantly connected her to the words on the card she had seen in the Metropolitan Police Department restroom earlier—

Happy Halloween!

"I want to play a game with you."

Christine's blood seemed to freeze instantly.

She suddenly looked up, her sharp gaze sweeping across the empty corridor and corners of the banquet hall like a hawk's.

There's nothing suspicious about it...

She silently reviewed the two unexpected events she had just encountered in her mind, but found nothing strange about them from beginning to end.

Is it just a simple coincidence?

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Emerging from the elegant afternoon tea restaurant, the Halloween atmosphere in Shibuya grew even stronger.

As dusk fell, the streets took on a magical hue, and more passersby and "demons and monsters" began to take to the streets.

"The taste is not bad."

Standing next to Hayashi Yoshiki, Koizumi Akako slightly raised her chin, expressing her satisfaction with the afternoon tea snacks.

Lin Jiashu looked at her upon hearing this.

The golden rays of the setting sun danced in his dark eyes, and a smile naturally appeared in them: "Really? Or are you just giving me a forced compliment because you're worried I'll say you have 'bad taste'?"

"I'm not as boring as you."

"Let's go."

The two walked down the street.

This location is quite a distance from Shibuya Station and that famous intersection, but there are still a lot of people.

While waiting at a red light, Lin Jiashu calmly took out his phone and glanced at it. A message from [Shimizu Reiko] flashed across the screen, indicating that he hadn't read it. His gaze lingered on the screen for no more than two seconds before quickly scanning the key information and putting his phone away.

[Besides that poor man and the policeman, there was no one else around the target.]

Lin Jiashu is satisfied with the current situation.

"It's starting to get dark." Lin Jiashu looked up at the street gradually being lit up by neon lights, her voice filled with interest. "It'll get even more lively in a little while."

Koizumi Akako followed his gaze and looked at the people dressed in exaggerated costumes. Her wine-red eyes also showed great interest—although she was a witch, she was essentially just a 17-year-old high school girl.

Lin Jiashu suddenly suggested, "Should we try to get involved?"

"What do you mean?"

"After all, it's Halloween, and I think it would be fun to try dressing up. After all, you don't usually dress up as a witch openly, do you?"

Lin Jiashu spoke in a relaxed tone, looking into Koizumi Akako's eyes.

Koizumi Akako paused slightly in her steps.

Disguise?

Lin Jiashu's words did pique her interest. After all, it seemed quite interesting for a real witch to hide in this bizarre night... Maybe she could even take the opportunity to use some magic to play a trick on Lin Jiashu, and no one would doubt that she was a real witch.

"Okay, but for me, the disguise props can't be cheaply made."

"Don't worry, this is Shibuya."

Shibuya's street culture has always been diverse, as evidenced by the fashionable presence of "Shibuya Gyaru" (Shibuya Girls). Therefore, it's not difficult to find a shop that can meet your Halloween costume needs.

They soon entered a small shop filled with all sorts of exaggerated costumes and accessories. Because it was Halloween, various related props were displayed in prominent positions, such as Frankenstein's monster stitched headgear, vampire's gorgeous cape, pumpkin headgear, and all sorts of strange ghost masks.

Koizumi Akako looked around the shop with great interest, her wine-red eyes gleaming with eager anticipation. She turned to Hayashi Yoshiki and asked:

"Hey, what are you planning to dress up as?"

Lin Jiashu's gaze swept over the dazzling array of clothes, seemingly pondering for a moment before a gentle smile curved his lips as he looked at her: "Hmm... werewolf, how about it?"

"Werewolf?"

Koizumi Akako's eyes suddenly lit up.

Almost instantly, an image formed in her mind: herself dressed as a witch, holding a rope in her hand, with the other end of the rope connected to the neck of Lin Jiashu, who was disguised as a werewolf.

After all, a wolf is just a dog.

Her mind was instantly filled with this indescribably beautiful scene, and she was so excited that she almost couldn't maintain her haughty expression. She quickly coughed lightly to cover it up: "Hmph, at least they have some taste, unlike those mummies wrapped in dirty bandages."

She tried to make her voice sound calm, but the slight upward inflection at the end betrayed her good mood.