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

Durin lounged in the new bathtub he had dug for his home, holding Eleven and Big Orange in hand.


"I warn you, we have dignity as AIs, not walnuts that Old Man Yan has been flipping in his hand for twenty years."


"Don't I need some literary play to maintain my mood after a sleepless night?"


"Damn impressive, the constitution of Grassland Elves isn't great, but after transforming into a Candle Dragon, even the shortest plank in the barrel has been patched. Wait, it looks like the newspaper delivery is already at your doorstep."


"That's not right, we've moved recently, there shouldn't be any newspaper deliveries." Hearing there might be a new newspaper to read, Durin got out of the bathtub, cleaned himself up with a Spell Formula, and changed his clothes before going to the front door.


He then noticed several newspapers tied together, along with a reminder from the Circle.


Chapter 60: Daily Report