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 was seated before a conciliation team comprised of bishops from multiple churches.


    He fiddled with the tea set in front of him as he gazed at the ashen-faced cardinal from the Wealth Goddess Church, a corpulent bishop whose bald head bore not a single hair but donned a crown forged of gold.


    His bishop's robe was magnificently opulent, the golden threads were made of Changtang Silk intertwined with gold strands; a mere inch of which made the patch-covered robe of the nearby Lord of Suffering Church's cardinal seem utterly shabby.


    Each of his fingers was adorned with at least two gold rings, embedded with various sorts of gems, the largest diamond appeared to be at least two carats, with so many facets that Eleven once thought it was machine-cut—until he noticed the minor flaws that only hand-cutting would leave.


Chapter 227: Super Roll Cutter Meat