Upon hearing the scream, Banai and Chitanda both jumped up in fright, while Duanmu Huai silently sighed, then turned off the hotpot and stretched lazily.
"Alright, let's go."
The three of them once again headed to the west wing from before, pushed open the door, and walked into the lobby, where the scene was clearly visible.
A patient lay on the floor, eyes wide open, with a large slit cut across the throat. Blood gushed out like a fountain, and a knife lay next to it, covered in blood, obviously the murder weapon.
In simple terms, this was a crime scene.
However, there was no atmosphere of a crime scene here.
The reason for saying this was simple; everyone else was acting as if they didn't hear or see the dead person. They continued sitting at the tables, either playing chess, reading books, or muttering to themselves, immersed in their own worlds. It was as if everything happening here didn't elicit any reaction from them.
