Suzuki Fumi was indeed the mastermind behind this series of events; there was no possibility of it being anyone else.
After all, as the director of this mental hospital, he could never wash away suspicion, no matter what.
"Oh? Unworthy of this outfit?" Suzuki Fumi appeared confident and at ease, laughing, "I am the director of this mental hospital, do you understand what I mean?"
Beichuan Si glanced at him but didn't respond to his question.
Being the director of a mental hospital yet the most mentally disturbed person—that was truly the most terrifying part.
Suzuki Fumi's face bore a smile as he casually picked up a jar containing eyeballs from the shelf beside him, carelessly unscrewed the lid, and retrieved a glass from the bottom shelf.
He raised the jar, pouring the yellowed liquid into the glass, then swirled the drink in his hand:
Under Beichuan Si's gaze, Suzuki Fumi took a light sip, his brows smoothing out as he praised,
