In my previous life, I was a forensic pathologist. In this one, I was reborn as the lowest-ranking corpse handler in a gang.
The dead man was one of the three leaders of the Round Table Society.
I touched the body and was arrested as the murderer.
During interrogation, the rope tightened around my neck until I was suffocating.
My vision went black, and I returned to the moment before the murder.
I saw a hand wearing a snake-head ring flash past the crack in the door.
When I woke up, I said, “The ring.”
They asked, “How did you know the victim was wearing a ring?”
But what I saw was the killer.
There was nothing on the dead man's fingers.
Yet the soles of my shoes were stained with blood from the crime scene.
It seems this body is hiding another me.
