“Three years ago, I missed half a fiber under the microscope, and my partner’s blood splattered across my face. After that, I took off my police uniform and became a private detective who sat at alley entrances helping people find their cats. Then one day, I received a blood-soaked parcel. Plastic wrap covered the dismembered remains, and a beige fiber clung to every piece of flesh. I counted thirty-seven body parts and thirty-seven fibers, exactly like the scene of the unsolved case from three years ago. When I used a 0.1 mm difference in the fibers to tear apart the ‘perfect crime scene,’ I discovered that my dead partner had already sewn the truth into his own corpse.”
