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

As the dean of the Northern Kingdom's Royal Arts Academy, he had accepted an invitation to visit the Sydney Art Center that day because that old elf had told him the art center had acquired a remarkable piece this year.


Well, Sean didn't look down on these barbarians of Sidney; it's just that in the eyes of the Northerners, the Sidney people simply didn't understand what art was.


These folks would even spend a fortune on paintings by so-called legends who had dreams but not a hint of talent or ability.


Heh, only the trash of Sidney would think to equate money with art—in the North, even a legendary figure wouldn't dare sell their personal integrity and dignity at such a low price.


With that thought, Sean followed the old friend from the art center who had come to meet him, entering the Sydney Art Center.


Chapter 197: They are all there, until the past meets the future.