Three sets of clothes, each seemingly representing a life taken, and deducing from the information on the note, there was a victim every day from Monday to Sunday, meaning the homeowner had at least seven lives on his hands.
"Could these bloodstains on my arm indicate the number of deaths? Carve a mark for each person killed? Ninety-nine is just too absurd."
His gaze shifted from the bloodstains to the ground; Han Fei looked at the Joker mask and felt a very strange sensation in his mind, as if he were staring at a mask but vaguely seeing his own face.
The mask was like a mirror, reflecting his inner self, or rather, revealing the true self within his heart.
Laughing unrestrainedly, hysterically, more insanely than anyone, yet with a tear on his cheek that just wouldn't wipe away.
"Is this the real me?"
As if summoned by something, Han Fei involuntarily picked up the mask from the ground.
"The murderous Joker? The hysterically laughing Joker? The crying Joker?"
