I'm Really Going to Become an Immortal

The short man was somewhat self-aware.

Only someone as abnormal as he would come to such a place in the dead of night.

What decent person would come to such a godforsaken, remote place at three in the morning?

Could it be he had encountered a fellow professional?

Or could it possibly be a fisherman?

For a moment, the short man looked at the naked man shivering on the rocks, his thoughts complex.

After all, it was well known that fishermen would randomly spawn in places with water.

And a murderer needed a place rarely visited by people, with secluded terrain and plentiful fish to help dispose of the body. Coincidentally, fishermen also needed a place rarely visited by people, with secluded terrain and plentiful fish for enjoyable fishing.

Their needs overlapped, it wasn’t impossible.

Thinking to himself.

The short man eyed the naked man, but saw no signs of tools like nets or fishing rods.