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 Cardinal Council meeting of the Prime Creator was a mess from the beginning.


When Durin walked in, the Cardinals of various races had already started their closed-door meeting.


The observing Bishops from different countries were seated in the back, but they couldn't seem to stop chattering. Since the main participants on stage hadn't arrived yet, their incessant talking continued.


"It reminds me of the daily morning meetings at the hospital, where the night shift doctors, yawning incessantly, handed over to the morning shift colleagues. It was then that the critical care unit suddenly received bad news – the old guy brought in last night was about to kick the bucket."


"Well, he obviously died, dammit. He was one hundred and seventeen, what else could happen? It's not like he could molt his skin."


"Come on, you're supposed to be a doctor."


Chapter 142: Performance Studies