I took over the job of guarding a late-night funeral parlor. The first night, a beautiful female corpse sat up from the autopsy table and asked me with a smile: "Have you seen my head?"** I subconsciously used my psychic perception - and instantly saw her head soaked in formalin, and the murderer was standing behind me. ** What's even weirder is that from then on, various "guests" came to my door every night, begging me to help them redress their grievances. Until the police station focused on me, a "private detective with his own clues", and the death note I drew unexpectedly forced the serial killer to surrender overnight. They all say that I can predict death, but I am the only one who knows—**The security guard who put out his cigarette butt and smiled at me the day before yesterday actually died in the fire ten years ago.
