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

When Fischer rushed over, Durin, who had just washed his face, was sitting in the Embassy courtyard, having his tail set back into place. The blast wave had not only sent Durin tumbling but had also put his tail in the path of a flying carriage wheel.


As for the Candle Dragon, given the weight and speed of that carriage wheel, had it hit Durin's head, even he wasn't sure whether he would have survived.


Now, with just a dislocated tail, he was already considering himself lucky—the patrol officer standing at the other side of the street at the time of the explosion had ended up in the path of the carriage door as it flew. He was now broken in forty-three places, worse off than dead.


Old Fischer had undergone two body searches upon his arrival, his gun had been taken away, and yet the commander in charge of Embassy security was still bombarding the Secret Police following old Fischer with the fastest speed and dirtiest vocabulary.


Chapter 175: The World Off Its Reins