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 he brought tens of thousands of letters to the post office, the postmaster was already missing, but there were still many people working.


Durin unloaded all the letters, then inquired about the situation—the postmaster was indeed absent. He was now at the bridge because he had previously served as a soldier and handled guns, so he had his wife and children retreat to the rear and he joined the fight as an armed civilian, vowing to die defending the city.


"What a good man," Big Orange sincerely exclaimed, "it's just a pity that good people always don't care about their own safety."


Chapter 165: Arrangement