The past month had been anything but successful. First, the whole world learned of her and branded her The Faceless. Then, as if fate itself were mocking her, her best friend—the very detective she had been assisting—was assigned to lead the case.

But her misfortunes did not end there. Her latest victim had been stronger than expected, fighting back and landing a blow to her face. Worse, they had drawn attention, forcing her into a hasty escape, leaving behind evidence—evidence that could finally unmask the elusive serial killer.

Now, as she prepares herself for the electric chair and the inevitable disappointment of the detective, fate unexpectedly grants her a lifeline. She manages to steal a sample of her own blood from the police lab, erasing a crucial piece of evidence. But just as she steps into the corridor, she sees her.

"You're early today," the detective greets her with a smile—warm, familiar, unsuspecting. Then her eyes narrow slightly. "Oh... What happened to your face? And what were you doing in the lab?"

Panic coils in her stomach. This is it. The end.

But before she can react, the detective reaches out, her touch feather-light as her fingers brush over her split lip—the very spot her victim had struck the night before.

She needs an excuse. A distraction. And she needs it fast.