"It seems we’ve gotten ourselves into big trouble."
Through the tavern’s glass window, Johnny Blackbird looked at the bustling port outside, took a sip from his glass, and said slowly.
"Relax, there’s always soone who has our back."
Ethan naturally knew that their trouble wasn’t small.
This ti, the job was done beautifully—killing soone, transporting goods, and even managing to wash their hands of the ss afterward.
One could say nothing was more perfectly executed.
However, the world operates on balance.
Whatever you gain, you must pay for.
Even though Maurice took the fall, no one is truly a fool.
To say Ethan and Johnny Blackbird had nothing to do with the affair was unbelievable to anyone.
Heigen wouldn’t believe it, and neither would Pope Edwin.
In fact, one could say they had already beco enemies of Heigen.
The burden of the Sea God Church.
They could act in the na of God once or twice, but what about in the future?
This ti they killed a gang mber; what about next ti?
Sea King Lockeby wouldn’t spare them either.
Actually, it was easy to investigate Ethan’s background. If soone wanted to, they could trace him directly to this sumr night’s events.
Because the batch of liquor from the South District was Ethan’s goods.
"They probably really want to kill us."
Especially Johnny Blackbird.
His current status in the Sea God Church was too special; as long as he was alive, there was always the possibility of invoking any action under divine oracle.
At least, that’s how it appeared on the surface.
"So what are you thinking?"
"Of course, I’m not afraid of death. In fact, death and I are one. Besides, I owe you, but... I don’t want to die aninglessly."
Johnny Blackbird withdrew his gaze from the window and said seriously.
He truly wasn’t afraid of death. When they first t, this guy had already been shot by Ethan and died once.
But he absolutely didn’t an that he wanted to die.
He wanted to strike first.
——————————
Three o’clock in the afternoon.
Ethan ended his eting with Johnny Blackbird and returned ho.
The weather was hot, and such afternoons were best spent in an air-conditioned room with a drink while writing sothing.
Princess Aine Beize had already replied to Ethan; she agreed to act in the film.
Obviously, the revised script had won her over.
So Ethan had to accelerate the process to perfect the details, and then, it’s ti to set up and shoot the film.
The world’s first sound film.
After getting out of the car.
Ethan walked to the door and was about to open it.
The next mont, he suddenly turned around, grabbed Anya, and leaped towards the door.
And at that mont.
A sudden explosion bood.
The whole house completely collapsed in the abrupt explosion, and the intense impact overturned his white Long Sword Klaus.
If he hadn’t moved quickly, he would have been swallowed by the explosion.
Still, his back was briefly scorched, with his clothes torn and damaged.
In the distance, he saw a black car speeding away.
He stood up, allowed Anya to inspect his back, then smiled.
It seed that Sea King Lockeby’s retaliation ca faster than he had anticipated.
Fast and direct.
If it weren’t for his ’True God’s Na’ being high enough, and his sense of danger sufficiently acute, he would have fallen in that explosion.
That was definitely not standard explosive material.
"Young master, are you alright?"
"I’m fine. We’ll probably have to stay at a hotel tonight."
That very evening, the news of Ethan’s residence being bombed appeared in newspapers and on the radio.
Ethan himself was already shadowed by his reputation as a Mafia leader, with black industries in his hotown.
This explosion further thrilled the major newspapers and journalists.
Was this a Mafia vendetta?
Who wanted to kill Ethan?
This ti, Ethan did not respond directly or see any reporters.
He simply checked into the Aphrodisia Hotel and continued writing the script.
By nine o’clock in the evening, Joseph arrived.
"Was it Sea King Lockeby?"
"It probably was."
Ethan put down his pen and stood up to stretch.
"Do you need to send people to protect you?"
"No, more people would just be a burden."
"What are you planning to do?"
"What else can I do? Find a new house. The old one is uninhabitable, and then prepare to shoot the film. Oh, by the way, I might need so connections in the police departnt."
Ethan thought for a mont and said.
"That’s it?"
Joseph was taken aback.
"Oh, and do you have any interest in acting?"
Ethan patted his head and said.
"You’re not planning to retaliate?"
"No."
Ethan shook his head.
"Ethan, are you still the Ethan I knew?"
Joseph felt Ethan was unfamiliar. In the past, in Wenster, Ethan would have fought tooth and nail.
Ethan never retreated a step.
Has he really beco so calm in the Royal Capital?
"The timing isn’t right."
Ethan smiled and shook his head.
"By the way, do you have any recomndations for a good house? I still prefer the seaside."
Hearing this, Joseph didn’t say anything further.
How could that be, Ethan was still the sa Ethan, but he had beco more fearso than before.
The roaring sea may be fearso, but the calm ocean hides unpredictable waves.
"That reminds , I do know a friend who’s just selling a seaside house. I’ll get back to you. I’ll take care of it."
Joseph left.
Ethan also temporarily lost the urge to write the script. He poured himself a drink, adding an ice cube, and turned to look out the window.
He rembered, when he first ca to the Royal Capital, he watched the city lights from the Aphrodisia Hotel like this.
Back then, the city’s vigilant and active cri fascinated him.
Now, it was the sa.
Sea King Lockeby, huh?
Interesting.
Finally, no longer just a small role like the Southern District Mafia.
In Sea King Lockeby, Ethan sensed a long-lost vibe, similar to Sandro’s.
Ethan drank the entire glass of liquor.
Then he took a shower and fell into a deep sleep.
That night, he slept well.
anwhile.
Johnny Blackbird’s night wasn’t as comfortable.
Just as he was falling asleep, he sensed sothing entering his house, and he slowly opened his eyes.
Without hurrying into action, he rose silently and began dressing.
He no longer wore the wizardly robes he’d donned frequently; he changed into his favorite shirt and suspenders, ticulously brushing his hair in front of the mirror.
As those things slowly approached his room, he turned and opened another wardrobe, filled with Wenster typewriters.
Johnny Blackbird was back.
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