The Killer and Detective

At the headmaster's study.

Dylan looked blankly ahead at the candle on the mahogany desk.

It was, for some reason, blue and flickering slightly, even though there was no breeze in the room.

The door then opened, and Renard entered the room, his footsteps heavy and slow.

While his gaze was on Dylan, he walked around the desk and took a seat on his comfy seat with its high backend and plush cushions.

"Do you know why I've invited you here, Dylan?" Renard asked, his voice oozing with coldness.

"I am not too sure, headmaster." Dylan replied.

He had black hair like night and looked like a depressed puppy with his big, sad eyes.

It was clear that he didn't enjoy people's company and preferred to keep to himself.

"What were you doing during the dinner?" Renard asked.

"I was at the library, reading," Dylan replied.

"Oh, is that so?" Renard tapped his finger on the desk. "Anyone can vouch for you?"