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

The old moose in the Sulemu Forest was listening to the King's wrath.


Of course, he was just listening, after all, the scolding wasn't meant for him—the National Security Bureau had only been established in recent years, and had recruited quite a few young people from the Sulemu Forest. These youths had vigor and were efficient in getting work done, though when it came to causing trouble, they also had a knack for it.


Ah, it had been so many years since the Kriegan family's King had once again blurted out the greatest curse of the old Sidney era, "You red-haired baboon of Sicily Island."


The old moose almost snorted when he heard this.


However, there's a Chang Tang saying that goes like this: extreme joy begets sorrow, look, here comes the problem.


"Great Horn! Have your people gone over there?"


"They have, Melissa and Royce, my best Chief Detective and her loyal and reliable reappointed assistant."


Chapter 128: Intelligence Exchange