Outside the window, dark clouds began to fill the sky. From a distance, it looked like a gray fishing net that covered the entire sky. The drizzle was chilly. It drifted in through the gap in the interrogation room and dripped onto Trent's clothes.
Trent sat in the interrogation room of the police station. In fact, it was just an excuse to imprison him.
Trent's hands were firmly shackled by silver cold handcuffs. His body was also tied to a hemp rope and trapped in a chair. The table in front of him was moved away by the staff. Even some of the cameras were temporarily closed, leaving only one.
His expression was calm as he predicted what was going to happen next.
In the seemingly calm world, there were always some corners that were covered in spiderwebs with power intertwined. There seemed to be pairs of hands suppressing the ordinary people under the rules, and above them were the nobles who dominated power and wealth.