I'm bleeding.

The thought processed in his mind so simply, that if he spoke it, it'd be spoken flatly, nonchalantly.

It didn't mean the blood wasn't there – heck; if he could talk, he'd jokingly state his stained white shirt brought out its vibrant red a whole lot – but he just couldn't care less. There was a difference between the two; it was just very unlikely he'd care about that either.

It was just blood after all.

So this is the end, I guess.

He could faintly hear a calm thanks from the slim figure before him, and not long after followed a mid-air swish of what he supposed was a knife. He could make out the gleam it sported, mentally sighing.

Well it looks like "might gave way to justice." That's funny. Funny for me, at least.

He couldn't smile; he was too busy trying to inhale as much icy air as possible. Even if he wasn't, he would be stoic awaiting that slash to the neck, going down the way her colleague's friend did. He didn't know why he'd let him get away with his slaughterhouse streak twice, considering a revenge-obsessed person like himself did so.

Sorry, Inspector.

Apologizing wasn't just an excuse for his off-key behavior; it was a habit. Be it spouting out the wrong advice, or for just being too reckless for his newly-recruited boss. In fact, nowadays, he apologized mostly to her. It was too much gore and pain for a fresh graduate like her. For a while, he thought of that woman whom he had been with for a solid one hour, whom he failed to protect for her boss' sake. He thought of how he carelessly let her get shot in the leg a mere fifteen minutes ago. All the tears she had probably shed once she comes home every time he fails his alignment.

I guess I'm just cold like that. Can't say, to be honest.

He guessed she got his coldness too. She accepted her friend's death as fast as a kid accepting his new toy. Just a few moments ago, she commanded him to bring their foe to justice. It's not like he didn't notice; it was just none of his business, even though he involved her in his begrudgingly personal affairs. It's not like he couldn't do anything; he was just a grade-A asshole.

Oh, that's why I'm dying. I get it.

He needed to get a beating from her if he didn't, or at least paralyze him for the second time. Maybe even take most of his salary, as if he needed any money the way he's living. He could've done something, but his focus was missing, and he only found some of it only now, during his last moments.

He could feel steps. Not slow, climatic ones that signaled the death of someone important, but the nimble steps that consequently leads to the death of a half-hearted servant like himself.

And here I thought I was a hound; I was never loyal to anyone.

He heard a harsh bash.

He had thought knives had done their work silently, even in a quiet, spacious room. It didn't matter, because a thud to the floor after that meant someone else had been knocked out mercilessly. And considering that there was no knife that reached even the skin of his neck meant he wouldn't be dying any soon.

"Kogami-san!"

Oh hey. She saved the dirtbag.

He felt her crouch near him, eyes filled with worry. She waited for a response, patient, albeit her shoulders tensing.

What do I say? I kinda hope it's nothing stupid.

Before he could debate with his mind, he let his rash nature get the better of him.

"Inspector..."

The words fell so selfishly, like a greedy businessman commanding his belief-less secretary.

"...kill him."

She doesn't deserve this might-given justice. Oh well.