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 rolled his eyes, thinking that feeding this kind of meat sauce to the experimental species really wasn't much different from raising a cat.


But Durin didn't recognize the letters on the other jar; Eleven scanned it for a while, offering a somewhat uncertain Clear Argument.


· This jar also contains precooked food.


· No way, what could be in here? Could it also be turkey meat?


· Uh… Sorry, this jar isn't filled with turkey meat, it's mashed potatoes. If I'm not mistaken, this jar should be mashed potatoes prepared by the researcher of Welsh descent from the European Union for his Sheep-Orc experiment subjects.


Having said this, Eleven fell silent for a moment.


· May the God who doesn't concern Himself with this place forgive his own incompetence in creating beings.


Chapter 299: No Delay