He died in an empty room he only occupied once a year.
Charcoal fire, suicide note, closed doors and windows, a perfect suicide scene.
Except... Not enough charcoal.
The police visited the house several times and the case was concluded as suicide.
But she knocked over a tea cup.
The pieces got stuck in the cracks in the floor and couldn't be pulled out.
Just like some truths, stuck in this marriage, stuck in the silence that hesitates to speak.
Another door was pushed open.
The entrepreneur who was allergic to alcohol died and his medicine was tampered with.
She stood at the morgue door and said, "I want an autopsy."
In the third empty room, the man dug out a pill bottle in the trash can and dialed the police phone number tremblingly.
Two days later, he fell into the river and died.
Three dead people, three women, and a box of medicine of unknown origin.
Everyone lies.
"It's just that empty room that it's heard of. It knows everything."
Intention: Face life bravely
