Dark clouds wrap around the police cordon of the crime scene, and a lingering chill floats in the air. The evidence pointing to him on the handed-over report is like chunks of heavy iron. The connection traces that can be traced back to him, the objects related to him, and even the records whose timelines happen to overlap—every single one is sticking the label of the murderer onto him. Others say these are unrelated illusions, but that bit of tightening uncertainty in the heart makes the seemingly ironclad conclusion always hang with an indescribable emptiness. Is the truth really hidden behind this evidence?