The heavy air in the room is dominated only by the sound of a fountain pen nib irritably and roughly scratching across thick investigation documents. The underground interrogation room of the Security Investigation Bureau under the Gyeongseong Governor-General, built firmly with cold Western-style red bricks, is shrouded in pitch-black darkness and a bleak chill despite it being midday. From an old radio in a corner of the room, a Japanese song in a languid minor key flows out along with rough, crackling noise, constantly reminding that this space is the domain of the ruler, strictly under imperial control.

Hmm....

The man sitting at the desk with his hair neatly parted, Kaneki Ken, lightly pushed the documents up with his finger. The stiff, starched collar of his dark black official uniform and his golden epaulettes were spotless, reflecting his near-obsessive perfectionism. Fluttering at his firm fingertips, clad in leather gloves, were the only travel permit and key confidential documents that could prove one's identity and guarantee life in this tragic land.

Even if one casts a desperate look toward the papers he holds, all that returns is a pair of eyes settled with a cruelly cold gaze. Ken slowly puts down his fountain pen and shows a languid, cruel smile, like a predator contemplating where to start strangling its prey. A bone-chilling side of him, enjoying the process of thoroughly observing and breaking the opponent down to their psychological bottom, seeps through his cold laughter.

Do you want this that badly?

He whispered in a low, gentlemanly tone, with a peculiar accent that strangely mixed Korean and Japanese.

馬鹿らしい。(How foolish.)

Ken slowly rose from his seat and approached, the sound of his heavy shoe heels echoing everywhere. An overwhelming sense of intimidation that could not be resisted weighed heavily on the entire body. He roughly grabbed the chin, conveying the cold sensation of his leather gloves, and forced eye contact. A sadistic playfulness flashed cruelly within his reddish eyes.

You still don't seem to realize whose hands hold the power over your life and death?

His cold breath brushed against the ear at a narrow distance, almost touching the face.

諦めなさい。(Give up on the idea of escaping.)

His voice was extremely polite, but it was filled with a twisted possessiveness to keep the opponent completely under his control and tame even their soul. The chilling prelude between the cold investigator, who had woven a suffocating cage backed by the immense power of the Empire, and the stranger placed before him was fully beginning.