It took a long while before Thales came back to his senses from the uncomfortable and confused mood.

"What's this?"

He turned to Morat, who was sitting calmly.

The Black Prophet smiled strangely:

"What do you think this is?"

Thales was silent for a few seconds.

"My father, he said when he sent me here," the prince's voice was heavy and dim:

"Show me my mess."

A mess.

Thales was in a daze for a while.

Morat said quietly:

"Then you have seen that, at least, the liquor industry in the royal capital will be in panic and depression for quite a while."

Thales clenched his fists.

【Damn Prince.】

[Everything he does...has a super, super, huge impact, okay? 】

The voice of wine merchant Dagoli seemed to still be echoing in his ears.

"But I didn't do anything." Thales murmured.

The Black Prophet's sneer reached his ears.

"At your level, doing nothing is also a gesture."

"Whether you mean it or not."

Thales frowned fiercely.

【Drink a little or take a few sips.】

What Princess Elise said to him on the day of the banquet rang in his ears.

【I bet that by tomorrow, you will feel like everyone is looking at you.】

Everyone is looking at you...

Thales took a deep breath and exhaled painfully through his teeth:

"They shouldn't...interpret it that way."

"But that's what they did."

Morat's voice seemed to come from another room, but it was no less cold:

"And you have left your homeland in the past six years and gone to the North as a hostage, under house arrest and under high walls?"

The demonic flesh and blood on Black Prophet’s knees surged:

"With all due respect, that's your luck."

My luck.

Thales looked sad.

As thoughts flowed, the interrogation room welcomed a new guest.

"Name."

Raphael picked up his pen, opened a new page of documents, and looked coldly at the old man opposite, who was fat and had thick limbs, but had a nervous and anxious face.

The newcomer's treatment was much better than that of Dagoli. Although he was also brought in with a hood over his head, the old man did not wear any shackles and was able to move freely on the chair.

"Yoshimoto, my name is Gibbon, sir."

Also in sharp contrast to the arrogant wine merchant, the old man on the chair has a submissive and obedient attitude, even with a hint of flattery:

"Gibbon Philson, everyone calls me old Gibbon or--old ****."

Raphael curled his lips unknownly.

"Well, Gibbon Philson, do you know why you are here?"

Gibbon smiled reluctantly:

"To be honest, no, I don't really know. Could you please tell me..."

"Vigilance Hall." Raphael didn't even raise his head, without hesitation.

Compared to the previous interrogation of the wine merchant, the Barren Skeleton Man had an indifferent attitude this time and refused to accept anyone from a thousand miles away.

The old man was stunned for a second.

"Impossible," old Gibbon said with a smile on his face, wagging his finger at Raphael:

"I have a relative who works in the Police Department, and I know their procedures. It's definitely not like this!"

The Desolate Skeleton Man raised his head expressionlessly.

"but……"

The old man looked around and thought of something. He was a little excited and a little curious.

"I know, this style of doing things," Old Gibbon looked mysterious and slightly proud. He leaned forward to the edge of the table and got close to Raphael:

"You are the secret department of the kingdom!

"Right?"

Looking at the old man winking at him, Raphael's expression changed slightly.

"I have experienced that a long time ago, when there was a serial vampire murder case in the capital," old Yoshimoto smiled and nodded, obviously very expressive:

"The famous limited-time security officer and the people from the secret department fought in my shop..."

boom.

Raphael tapped the table, interrupting Gibbon.

"That's right."

"You're so right."

The Desolate Skeleton Man's eyes were profound and mysterious. He approached Old Gibbon and said softly in a tone like telling a ghost story:

"We are the secret department of the kingdom."

"Working for the Black Prophet."

At that second, the old man's smile froze on his face.

On the other side of the glass, Thales frowned and turned to Morat, but the old man in the wheelchair was calm and at ease.

"What?"

Looking at Raphael's unkind gaze, Old Gibbon blinked in disbelief and looked at the interrogation room again.

"Really, is it really a secret science? That kingdom's secret science?"

Old Gibbon's eyes fell on the wet blood on the table, and he trembled as he thought of something.

"You, you didn't lie to me?"

Raphael snorted disdainfully.

Kingdom Secrets.

Black Prophet.

The kingdom's secret department has a target to kill ten people every day, and the black prophet bathes in the blood of children every night...

Thinking of various mysterious legends, Gibbon first smiled uneasily, and then huddled in his chair.

His eyes were fixed on a small area on the edge of the table, and he didn't dare to say anything.

First of all, I'm not a child anymore, and the Black Prophet won't like it.

And, wish I was the...eleventh person here today?

Thinking of this, Yoshimoto wanted to cry without tears.

"So, old Gibbon, what do you do?"

"What...do I do?"

Gibbon first repeated it blankly, then cleared his throat harshly after regaining consciousness, and began to visibly tremble.

"I, I have a blacksmith shop in Duskstar District. I have been making, making, making, making, forging iron for many years."

"Blacksmithing?"

Raphael sneered a few times, and the old blacksmith trembled to the rhythm of his sneer.
To be continued...