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Summary
A circle of eight, accusations flinging. The body, with an ornate knife dug in up to the hilt in its throat, is not present, but it might as well be; everybody present has the body etched in their minds. The look of horror on its face, the blood splatter against its pale skin—it’s unforgettable stuff.
Seungmin eyes the others warily. All this suspicion, all this investigation, all this accusation, and they’re not any closer to the truth.
And then Felix steps forward, shushing everybody else without a word. He raises a trembling hand, and, with an unsteady voice, confesses, “I-it was me. I killed him.”
Wherein a weekend away turns sinister—or was it sinister from the start?