Miki Mihama -

Miki stared at the watch’s repaired face. For the first time in years, the tiny gears began to move—not ticking seconds, but counting down.

Miki Mihama always knew when someone was lying. miki mihama

“Miki Mihama,” he repeated, as if tasting each syllable. “The girl who hears the truth.” Miki stared at the watch’s repaired face

That night, Miki worked on the watch. She cleaned each gear with tweezers and oiled the mainspring with a dropper no wider than a hair. As she realigned the escapement wheel, something shifted inside the case—a folded slip of paper, no bigger than her thumbnail. ” he repeated

Her blood chilled. “What did you say?”