In the rumbling, endless, pitch-black rainy night, at the point where two flashlight beams converged, stood the most repulsive-looking stage director in the world.
And it was, in fact, immensely proud of itself.
Mai Mingle had seen through the real trap in an instant, yet the creature had still droned on for two full minutes. It painstakingly went over every detail, unwilling to omit a single thought that crossed its mind.
"…They say villains die from talking too much, but I'm not afraid! Because I'm not the villain. Oh, and I'm not going to die, either. But after laying such intricate groundwork and setting up this exquisite trap, if I didn't get to explain all the ins and outs, I'd probably die of frustration…"
The Resident closed an eye on its temple. The rest of its eyes continued to gaze affectionately at Mercury and Mai Mingle—it certainly had enough of them to go around.
Then, it raised an index finger and tapped its temple, right on the closed eye.
