C1619 It's Going to be Pushed into the Stove

It was three or four o'clock in the morning. The night was fading, and the sky was turning white. It was the quietest time on the road.

A funeral car drove out from the back door of a private clinic, passing through the quiet streets and straight to the crematorium.

The two people in the driver's seat were a little scared.

They were both killers who killed without blinking their eyes