“How did you—“ Light whips his head to his desk, specifically his drawer.

A pen from his pencil holder was taken apart; the ink holder gone. He sighs, closing the door, locking it before leaning on the wall. Crossing his arms, he looks at the floor before speaking.

“Didn’t think you were suspicious of me. What made it obvious?” He acted as if he was committing any crimes. As if Japan’s best detectives were searching for Kira—him.

“You don’t understand why I’m doing this. The magnitude of-“