chapter 22

The light outside the door came on.

The corridor was a complete mess.

Blood was everywhere-on the walls, on the floor.

It was impossible to tell whose was whose anymore.

402 was lying weakly at my doorstep.

He was clutching his leg. Only when I looked closely did I see that his leg had been stabbed by 502, and blood was gushing out.

I hurriedly dragged him back inside.

With a bang, I shut the door.

Safe.

Now we were safe.

I fetched some things to clean his wound.

“Did you call the police?” I asked.

He kept his head down, tending to his injury.

“I did, I did. Maybe it’s because of the heavy rain, but the police still haven’t come.”

I handed him the gauze. “Do you know where 502 ran off to?”

His hand paused as he applied the medicine.

“How would I know? I stabbed him a few times in return, and he ran downstairs. Who knows where he went.”

I stood behind him.

“502 is dead, isn’t he?”

He silently finished wrapping his wound.

When he looked up again, his eyes were evasive. “How would I know if he’s dead or not? What are you talking about? Come on, help me, help me sit outside.”

He hid his right hand behind him.

But I clearly saw that when he brought his right hand out, he was hiding that small knife from the floor in his palm.