Chapter 3

The cold iron door slammed shut behind me with a heavy echo.

I'd been locked in a temporary holding cell.

The room was small—just a hard bed and a toilet.

The air reeked of disinfectant mixed with despair.

I felt my way to the bed and sat down, listening quietly to the sounds outside.

Footsteps echoed up and down the hallway, mixed with hushed conversations.

"That's the peeping pervert?"

"Looks so normal, but he's actually disgusting."

"I heard he's blind. Must be faking it, right?"

"Who knows? Either way, he's finished. Of all people to mess with, he picks a college girl."

These voices pierced my ears like countless tiny needles.

I'd long since grown used to the darkness, but for the first time, it felt unbearably cold and cutting.

About two hours later, the iron door opened again.

It was William.

He was holding a clear evidence bag, a smug smile on his face.

He waved it in front of me.

"Lucas, look at this."

He seemed to forget I couldn't see.

He revealed the answer himself, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"We found this under your windowsill!"

"Military-grade binoculars!"

"And this!"

He pulled out another evidence bag containing a digital camera.

"We found tons of photos of Mia on this camera! From all kinds of angles! Absolutely disgusting!"

"Now, what do you have to say?"

I remained silent.

But inside, I was reeling.

They moved fast.

They'd already planted all the "evidence."

Seeing that I didn't respond, William assumed I was admitting guilt.

He pulled over a chair and sat across from me, his tone taking on a lecturing quality, as if he were scolding a clueless kid.

"Lucas, oh Lucas. You're young, you're not bad-looking—why do something so sleazy?"

"Now the evidence is right here. There's no point denying it."

"Just sign the papers. I'll even ask the prosecutor to go easy on you. Maybe you'll get a few years shaved off your sentence."

He pushed a document and an ink pad toward me.

"Come on. Press your fingerprint. Let's end this quickly. It's better for everyone."

I could "hear" the dismissiveness and impatience in his tone.

He didn't care about the truth.

He just wanted to close the case.

I slowly lifted my head and faced him.

"William, if I press my fingerprint, does that mean I'm admitting to all the charges?"

"Of course!"

"And I'll be convicted of indecent assault and distributing obscene materials?"

"That's right. Combined charges, at least three years minimum."

"My name, my life—I'll be branded as a 'rapist' and a 'pervert' forever?"

William's patience seemed to run out.

"Why are you talking so much? You brought this on yourself! Who else is there to blame?"

I laughed.

The sound echoed eerily in the empty holding cell.

"Yeah. Who else is there to blame?"

I murmured to myself.

Then I reached out, groping for the transcript.

Just as William thought I was about to press my fingerprint, I used every ounce of strength I had and tore that document to shreds.

Paper scraps fluttered down like snowflakes.

William was stunned. He hadn't expected me to do that.

"You... you're insane!"

He shot to his feet, pointing at my nose and roaring.

"This is resisting law enforcement! You're making it worse for yourself!"

I faced his fury and said, slowly and clearly:

"I didn't do it. I won't admit to a single word."

"You can fabricate evidence. You can beat a confession out of me. But you will never make me bow."

"Want me to confess? You'll have to kill me first."

My words were like a resounding slap across William's face.

His face turned from red to green, then from green to purple.

"Fine! Fine! Fine!"

He said "fine" three times, trembling with rage.

"You've got guts! Let's see just how tough you really are!"

He spun around and stormed out, shouting into the hallway.

"Someone get in here! Cuff him! File for formal detention!"

"I'm going to make him understand what the law's authority really means!"

Two officers rushed in and roughly dragged me off the bed.

Cold handcuffs clamped onto my wrists again—this time tighter than before, biting painfully into my skin.

They shoved me forward, making me stumble as I walked.

Just then, my phone rang.

It was that monotone electronic tone unique to phones designed for the blind.

One officer moved to hang up impatiently.

But I spoke.

"Let me answer it."

My tone carried an undeniable calm.

The officers hesitated.

William barked:

"Answer what? Take him away!"

"If this call delays you from learning the 'truth' you want, the consequences are on you."

My words made William freeze.

He looked at me suspiciously.

Finally, he signaled for his subordinate to hand me the phone.

I fumbled for the answer button.

On the other end, a cold, familiar female voice spoke.

"Lucas, this is your landlord. I'm giving you three days to move out of my apartment."

"I don't want a disgusting peeping tom living in my property."