The moment the door was pushed open, it was like piercing a layer of cling film, and the smell of blood wrapped inside rushed to their noses, so strong it almost made them retch.
The prison guard's face changed dramatically as he pushed open the door, hurriedly turning on the switch on the wall.
The moment the light came on.
The terrifying, sinister scene, like a hellish painting from an ukiyo-e, emerged from the darkness and invaded the eyes of the three men.
The gray-white walls, the bright white tiles, the snow-white ceiling, all were splattered with black-red color, the color had solidified into a dense, endlessly repeating six words:
I confess, I am guilty!
Each character was crooked and uneven in depth, as if someone lay on the ground, the wall, the ceiling, leaning close, intently scratching it out with bloody nails, one by one.
