Leonardo Witterer smelled burnt flesh, which he knew was his own.He stared at the swaying black figure with wide eyes in horror, and asked, "What exactly do you want?" "Password!" the man said gruffly, "Of course it's a password!" "But... I don't—" The guy's iron fell down again, and the scorching white iron burned deeply into Wittler's chest, and the scorched chest suddenly made a "hissing" sound. Wittler yelled in pain: "I don't know the password at all!" He felt like he was going to pass out. The guy glared: "No password! I'm afraid I don't have a password!"

Wittler struggled to keep his wits about him, but the feeling of fainting was looming.The only thing that comforts him is that the guy won't get any password from him.While he was thinking, the guy found another knife and put it on Witterer's face.The knife moved back and forth across his face.The guy was careful, as if undergoing plastic surgery. "For God's sake!" Witterer screamed, but it was too late.