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65~ |Got Your Filthy Hands Off|
The last cubicle of the men's restroom on the ground floor of one of the pediatric children hospitals in downtown Oakland was strangely occupied by a middle-aged man who didn't even come to do what the purpose of the toilet was built for. Instead of coming to relieve himself, he stood with his back to the wall and face towards the door, speaking to himself. Nevertheless, if looked closer, one would notice that the man was actually conversing with a disembodied voice that came from the back of his lower nape. That was where the obsidian light was glowing.
"Earth, you say?" asked the voice in slight disbelief.
"Yes, King Father. And coincidentally, he died in my area."
"Are you sure that he is dead?"
"Positive, King Father. I checked his corpse by myself."
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