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

Old Riccio sipped his whiskey while reading the newspaper. He had lived for over a hundred years and been dead for several decades, but never before today had he felt his brain inadequate.


Was Sir Durin that formidable? He confronted the entire process with Detect Lies, and apart from deliberately telling a small lie during the test, at no other time was even a single word a lie?


What was capital? Old Riccio had never heard of it before today, but he understood that what the young Sir said under the influence of Detect Lies wasn't false.


"Marilyn, do you know? Before today, I thought we were the worst among men," Mishel mused beside him. Much younger than Old Riccio, he was the youngest Undead Mage in the region.


"Not anymore, little Mishel," Marilyn remarked with a sigh, looking at the drink in her hand. "I find it strange that, having lived and died for so many years, I always thought we were the worst, second only to the Cult of Chaos."


Chapter 238: Reflection