Half-step Purgatory

Durin stroked the black cat on the armrest of his chair, sitting on the black leather sofa. Through the glasses perched on his nose, his gaze passed over the long table in front of him and settled on the man kneeling on the carpet:
"I understand, you've made money in Naples, your business has been very successful, and you've led a happy life. You've had those secret police, friends in both the law and the underground, and even the Royal Family speaking on your behalf."
"You don't need a friend like me, I know that. You're afraid of owing me a favor, and you don't want to get involved in troubles."
"But now you come to me and say, 'I beg you, Mr. Durin of the Corleon family, please help me seek justice, so that my life and my family will not suffer and sink into despair.'
Yet, in your eyes, I was nothing more than a second-rate artist involved in movies and music. Even at the brink of death, you still show me such disrespect, not even willing to call me by my title... Keeper of Secrets."

Durin's Diary

"Desire never extinguishes, the struggle never ends..."


The white-haired old man finished reading the headline of today's morning edition of Wisdom Daily, and with his withered hand, he laid the newspaper on the table, turning to glance at Fischer Gregory standing beside him.


"Fischer, what do you think of this little grandson from the Corleon family?" The old man patted his knee.


"Your Majesty, he is a great-grandson well-taught by Duke Ailish. I've heard he's never even met his father and grew up in Lublin since he was a child. This time, he's been influenced by the travelling movie troupe that came to town last year, saying something like movies should not be seen as strange things that only capture women's thighs," Fischer said, offering flattery while subtly correcting the minor errors in the old man's words.


Chapter 12: The Endless Struggle