BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 96's

As soon as the other three had said goodbye, Marco instructed Krip, "If Jose wondered about Sir William, keep him away from the young man."

The crip hung for a moment. "Why, Sir? I mean, of course I will carry out whatever you command. But what if Little Master forces?"

Marco shakes seriously. "You remember Mr. Bannet thirty years ago, right?"

"Still, Sir. He had a terrifying cold aura. The temperature of the room dropped every time it came. Looks like junior Mr. Bannet inherited it."

Marco grunting. "No senior or junior."

"Sorry, Mister?" Krip stop. They were now on a wooden staircase leading to the first floor. Marco two steps ahead of Krip, leading the way. "No senior or junior?"

Marco stopped too. He looked slightly at Krip, then said softly, "They are the same person."

Krip buyak surprise. His entire body was like being doused in cold water. Tongue's cow. If William Bannet was thirty years ago and now is the same person, he should have been seventies.

Marco returned his gaze to the front of the stairs. "If Jose manages to find this information from his own head or from his own efforts, you can help him. But as long as he doesn't know anything, let it go. That means this case is none of his business."

The krip takes a slow breath and exhales it to calm down. "Sure, sir," he whispered. In his mind again imagined horror 30 years ago, when some bodies were found torn apart in South Bjork.

***

After the meeting at the Krip store, Marco actually wanted to go home soon. The night is still long. New fireworks begin to ignite as Marco walks alone in the deserted alleys of Bjork. Everyone was already pinned down on the main street, watching parades and fireworks.

Without the humans filling every curve of Bjork, this city is like a pile of dead stones. Marco sped up the pace, but deliberately tried not to make the slightest sound. His habit of walking home and away from secret meetings is to try to walk as quietly as possible, so that his route is unknown to others.

A single fireworks exploded in the sky.

Marco raised his face to look, but his gaze caught something else more interesting. Robert, Inspector Bjork, walked into the side of the alley opposite the Discussion Building. Robert was not wearing a uniform, now only coating his body with an old brown coat and a shabby hat. If it was just a glance, no one would have thought that the little man was a sharp-eyed fierce inspector who rarely spoke. Even so, Marco recognized the way. That was Robert. And the man is not alone. There were two others with him.

Marco squinted, but the shadow was too blurry. He walked slowly across the main road, snaking among the crowd easily. His trained steps managed to find the cracks through which his body could pass.

In an instant, Marco was already five meters behind Robert and his comrades. The three men walked unhurriedly, nor did they talk to each other. They walk in a triangular pattern. The front one is Robert, while the two behind are Charles Hastings and Xavier Hastings. Marco recognized Charles from the shoes the man wore, while the tall thin body that always followed Charles was definitely Xavier. Xavier is Charles' cousin. Charles was only a baron somewhere small in the corner of Bjork, but was counted in Bjork because of his trading efforts.

What are they doing these nights? Marco followed them easily from behind, not surprised to find the three walking past the tax office, heading to the wooden bridge connecting the two parts of Bjork.

Marco weighed in for a moment. He could have gone back to his house now, then come back with an army. But it will lose an important trace. He could ask Robert this tomorrow. It was possible that the inspector was conducting his own investigation.

Marco laughed at the possibility he had just thought of. Robert Dawson betrayed him. And he will find out for himself what the inspector betrayed him, and what the three men did these nights.

***

Marco stepped in regularly and lightly, creeping slowly across the bridge connecting the two parts of Bjork. A dark coat wrapped around his body. Behind the coat was a revolver with six bullets and a dagger. Marco is quite confident in his physical strength, but he also knows that age still affects everything. He would no longer be able to throw two men with his bare hands like when he was young. Therefore, he always equipped himself with both weapons.

He crossed the meadow into a forest yard while taking into account the distance between himself and the three people he followed. As if welcoming, the wind blew through the forest, deducing the sounds of friction of the leaves that were noisily up there. Marco stared around vigilantly. There's a strange thing in the southern part of Bjork, and it's definitely not about people building houses without a residence permit. It's about the forest.

The forest is parted by the sacred river Bjork, a forest that gives off a strange fog at certain hours. Now, he's going to get into it.

Marco put both his hands into his coat, trying to fuse in the darkness, though in the sky, right above him, fireworks gave off a dazzling glow.

Marco was a brave man, but not rash. It is not that he wants to be brave enough to explore the forest at night. But he felt that this kind of golden opportunity would not come again.

His eyes were still watching Robert and the comrades who were walking five meters in front of him.

The horde did not look conspicuous in the city. There was nothing strange about seeing a few well-respected men walking along with the police inspector. But now, when they were on the edge of an unfamiliar forest, the group just looked mysterious.

Marco walked slowly within range. Every now and then he crept behind the tree, unhurriedly, when he felt that someone would look back. While walking, Marco rethinks the mysteries that plagued Bjork, thinking about whether it might be all related.

When they finally reached the river that ran through the middle of the forest, Marco immediately slipped behind a large acacia tree that was about to collapse. He caught the prowess of another figure just now, a figure whose movements were nimble but disorganized. The figure was so small, trailing the entourage that Marco followed, but was unaware of its existence.

Marco's heart momentarily stopped beating. He had thought that the figure was Jose when he saw his agility. But as he watched more closely, Marco realized who it was.

Nolans.