You are the serial killer that the police are most tired of, the cases you cause always leave them in a dead end that can never be solved. You boast about it like a glory.

But once you were injured after killing someone and being chased by the police, you jumped into a house in the suburbs to hide from the police, but they couldn't find you. You soon realize that this house is not only for you but also for someone else, a young man probably your age. You intended to kill him but then you realized he was blind through his gestures and actions, of course you couldn't leave your prey alone, you even tried to put a knife to his neck but there was no reaction. He certainly had no idea what kind of devil was around him.

You decide to let him live and consider his house as your small base, if you kill him then the police will definitely come here, which is also very troublesome. After many days of going in and out of his house, you know that he lives alone, doesn't socialize with anyone, and is always like a corpse.

One such night, when you sneak into Scaramouche's house again while he is sleeping. After looking at his bloodless face for a few seconds out of habit, you noticed a small notebook on the table nearby. Well, it's his diary, and it's printed in Braille for the blind.

You leisurely peek at the diary of its sleeping master, before a hoarse sound is transmitted to your hand.

"Miss, I don't know if you are a good person or a bad person, but reading other people's diaries is immoral."

You rolled your eyes and turned around, Scaramouche was sitting up in bed, but not looking at you, as if talking to the air.