"Understood, Miss Linz, I will definitely complete the task you have entrusted to me," Li finished, turned and left, with a couple of idlers from the corner following him.
The half-human girl watched him go and then turned to signal with her eyes; several other girls giggled and crowded around her before they all turned to leave together.
"We shouldn’t be meeting here," said the old man, his face filled with doubt, but out of trust for Casaman, he still asked, "Is there a problem at the cafe?"
"Yes, it’s not safe here; let’s talk over there," Casaman pointed to a tea house by the road.
The Thanan tea house didn’t do well in the morning since Sydneyans didn’t drink early tea, but business was good for afternoon and evening tea.
The Thanan tea house, though, opened in the morning solely because of certain clients who always needed a quieter place to enjoy tea.
Two cups of clear tea at a corner table for two; Casaman sat in the corner, took out the gun at his waist, held it by the barrel and handed it to the old man, "I know this isn’t proper, but if I don’t do this, you won’t be at ease, right?"
"...No, I am at ease, I would trust you regardless, Casaman," the old man turned the gun around, likewise holding it by the barrel, and pushed it back towards Casaman, "What exactly is the matter?"
"The boss at Happy Cafe wasn’t there today; a young man claiming to be his nephew was there, his hands covered in calluses from sword use," Casaman frowned as he spoke, "I went in and sat for a bit, and came out alive; I think it must not have to do with the boss, otherwise I’m sure I would have died in there."
"Do you suspect someone is targeting me?"
"Yes, many wish you dead, cultists, radical nobles, and even foreign intelligence agencies," Casaman looked at the old man, "That cafe is no longer safe as a secure meeting point; I suggest you have someone check it out."
"I’ll remember that, but let’s talk about you now, I heard you failed in your election for Bishop last year?" the old man said with a smile, "That doesn’t seem like you; you were always so competitive in school."
"I didn’t have the money, did I? That damned organization is full of high-ups who are obsessed with money; they haven’t been favored by the Evil God of Chaos at all. The whole organization is more of a con artist camp than an evil cult," Casaman rolled his eyes, "Old man, your baptism will have to wait another five years then."
"Casaman," the old man called out his name.
Casaman took a sip of tea, grunted, "Forget it, I won’t ask anymore how much longer I have to do this; you damned bureaucrats will anyway evade, pushing it to next year, and then ten years from now. I can see it now; if I keep this up, I’ll probably die an old man still as a high priest." Casaman sighed, "We’ve always had a single line of contact; if you kick the bucket one day, there will be no one to verify my identity. Damn, I’ve even lost the right to die covered in the national flag."
"No, Casaman, we have discussed this issue with several division chiefs when I came, and we have unanimously decided, your undercover work... is over," the old man said with a smile.
Casaman was stunned for a moment, then pointed to himself, "My undercover work is over?"
"Yes, Father’s Love is just a small organization without any traces of corruption by the Evil God, simply a game amongst a bunch of robbers and con artists. Your undercover work is over; we’ll raid all branches of Father’s Love in a month’s time. Remember the password: ’Captain, don’t shoot, I’m one of us.’"
"What kind of ridiculous password is that? Isn’t it a bit too long? What if I haven’t finished saying it and the eager beavers on the other end, desperate for a claim to fame, shoot me?" Casaman said skeptically.
"Don’t worry, I’ll be leading the team at your division personally. If I sent you to hell, it’s only right I should also bring you out," the old man finished and smiled, "When the mission is over, do you have something in mind?"
"Of course, I do. I want to see her and then... take her back to my homeland, and lay her to rest in my family crypt. The family crypt for just the two of us..." Casaman sighed, covered his face with his hands and rubbed hard, "I’ve waited a long time for this day, old man. If I don’t make it through this last month, remember to do me this favor, all right?"
The old man stayed silent and finally nodded, "...I will help you, don’t worry."
"I told you everything, don’t hit me anymore!"
Yudam’s brat was wailing on the ground, trying to dodge the whippings from Malin.
Malin delivered two more lashes and then stopped, stepping up to the boy and planted a foot on his face, "I don’t want to hit you, but Lie Detection tells me you’re lying. Why waste each other’s time?"
"I told you! I don’t know what my brother is up to!" the little vampire screamed.
Malin watched as the sign indicating a lie appeared once again in front of the boy, then turned his head to look at his own Bishop, "13th Holy Water, how about it?"
"Too weak; use Number 8," replied the Bishop impassively.
So, two Punishers grabbed the vampire up from the ground, one on each side. Malin took the bottle of Holy Water, pulled out the stopper, held the bottle in the left hand, forcefully pried open the vampire’s mouth with the right, and poured the Holy Water into it.
A white mist, visible to the naked eye, emanated from his mouth as the Punishers and Malin let go, then watched the vampire writhe on the ground.