"Is everything alright? I thought I heard..." It was the guard; his voice held a hint of doubt, but more so, concern.

Everyone who came here for visitation left with unstable emotions; the guard was used to it.

After all... this place was nominally a sanatorium, but in reality, it was a prison.

And most of those imprisoned were former elites of the Execution Department.

Young people who once had bright futures.

Those locked away here would never have the chance to live in the sunlight again.

Regardless of their behavior.

Their families were not allowed to visit; only former teammates could obtain permission.

When this young man asked to use the restroom, he knew the other party just wanted a quiet place to calm down.

So he brought him here.

It was relatively secluded, and few people came.

"Sir," he said in a comforting tone, "is there anything I can do for you?"

The sound of rushing water came from inside, drowning out everything else. The guard thought he heard something strange, but he wasn't sure.

Until the water stopped, and An Xuan walked out, shaking his hands. The hair on his forehead was wet with water, sticking to his face, and droplets kept rolling down his cheeks.

"I'm alright," he said apologetically. "I lost my composure. I'm sorry."

Hearing An Xuan say this, the young guard was immediately flattered and a little flustered. "Sir, please don't say that. This is... this is my duty."

Honestly, he didn't have a good impression of the people from the Execution Department.

In his eyes, most of them were young, and they all had an air of arrogance.

Or they were terrifyingly cold, not saying a word the whole way, occasionally glancing at people with gazes sharp enough to dig out their hearts.

But the person in front of him was different. He was gentle, polite, and the guard even wondered how someone like him had survived among the monsters in the Execution Department.

"We're here," An Xuan said softly.

Only then did the guard come back to his senses. He drove the internal shuttle, taking An Xuan to the gate, then escorted An Xuan to the guard post.

There, other guards were responsible for the inspection.

After the inspection was completed, he could change back into his own clothes and leave.

Staring at An Xuan changing back into his clothes, a light flashed in the guard's eyes. A long, black trench coat, plain black pants, and black leather shoes.

The cuffs of the trench coat and the collar were embroidered with gold thread, which looked particularly dazzling in the sunlight.

At this moment, the guard realized that this man wasn't as weak as he had imagined. He stood there, straight as a ramrod, like a battle flag planted on the ground.

A gust of wind blew, lifting the hem of the trench coat, revealing the brilliant Ukiyo-e lining.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

He shouldn't have been able to see it clearly from that distance, but at this moment, he did.

It depicted a city plunged into eternal night, a man in a black trench coat standing on the highest rooftop, and beneath his feet... countless demons climbing upwards.

"I watch in the darkness, hoping that more people will sing praises of the dawn."

—Night Watchman

...

"Tap. Tap. Tap."

In the deep corridor, leather shoes stepped on the ground, making a crisp sound.

At the end of the corridor was a dark black door.

The door was inlaid with an old handle, covered with the roughness of time, as if touching it would capture a few fragments of the years.

Standing in front of the door, An Xuan adjusted his breathing.

Few people were qualified to walk to this door.

He barely counted as one.

And most of those qualified to open this door were already dead, their portraits hanging on either side of the deep corridor he had walked through.

Watching everyone who came here.

"Creak—"

The door opened inward, and under the mottled light, a face that could not be seen clearly was reflected.

The person was sitting on the sofa in the innermost part, the whole person seemed to be huddled inside, only showing a face.

An Xuan no longer hesitated and walked in.

The door behind him closed again without warning.

A deathly atmosphere surrounded An Xuan, as if some kind of pressure was suffocating him.

"Number A00131," An Xuan said.

He hated the silence for the first time, the place gave him the feeling of a bottomless swamp.

It was also his first time coming here.

"Repeat." A hoarse voice sounded, and An Xuan's heart trembled involuntarily, "Iris Incident."

"One year ago, my team was ordered to participate in a mission, codenamed Iris. Due to intelligence errors, they suffered a premeditated ambush by the Deep Crimson during the mission. Task specialists A00137, B02497, B03214, B04008 died, B04149 survived, but was judged to be corrupted, currently..."

"Where were you at the time?"

"Because the intelligence determined that the other party was only a follower of Deep Crimson, I was required to stay behind to be responsible for mission support and did not enter with the team."

"So... that's why you've been secretly investigating the Iris incident?" The hoarse tone fluctuated slightly, and An Xuan felt the suppressive force become stronger.

An Xuan gritted his teeth, "Yes."

"You should be clear about the Night Watchman's rules."

"Yes."

"The consequences of secretly investigating classified events that you shouldn't be involved in..."

"I know." An Xuan suddenly raised his head and interrupted, "You called me here, it shouldn't be just to say these things, right?"

The atmosphere fell silent again.

After a moment—

The hoarse voice continued, "This is the Night Watchman's underground confession room, a place for sinners to atone for their sins. Do you... have no sins?"

An Xuan's expression changed slightly.

"The person you're looking for is outside the door." The person continued, his tone not impatient, like a tired, dying old man.

"He doesn't deserve to come in here. No one can forgive his sins." He paused, "Not even God."

After bowing slightly to the person, An Xuan turned and left. He saw a paper bag on the handle outside the door.

He casually took it down, and while walking out, he slowly opened the paper bag.

Inside, there was only an envelope sealed with sealing wax bearing the Night Watchman's emblem.

He walked and read, and after reaching the last door he had entered, he exhaled a long breath, put away the envelope, and then placed a corner of the envelope on the candlestick beside him.

As the firelight flickered, the envelope in his hand turned to ashes.

"Number 4..." He turned around, staring at the deep corridor. He didn't know where the wind came from, blowing the faint candlelight occasionally.

On both sides of the walls hung paintings.

And at this moment, these portraits seemed to come alive. Their faces were ferocious, some with bulging veins, some with muscles bulging all over their bodies, as strong as bulls, and some with disheveled hair, scarlet eyes, and tears of blood constantly dripping from the corners of their eyes...

But what really attracted An Xuan's attention were their hands.

More precisely, the door faintly appearing in their hands.