With such thoughts, Casaman stood at the entrance of the coffee shop and saw No. 799.
It was a three-story building, and various garnts were being aired on the balcony facing the street on the third floor, all of which looked like beautiful silk fabrics.
These were fine goods from Thainan, each worth a considerable amount, indeed it seed like there was a fat sheep. Now the problem was that he had yet to see the fat sheep himself. In a no-capital business, the most important thing is to know both yourself and your enemy, your own strengths, and the enemy’s weaknesses. Only by doing so can you truly feast on the fat sheep, rather than kicking against an iron board.
Obviously, standing in the street was no solution, so Casaman walked into the café. He was sowhat surprised to see that the owner, whom he knew well, was not there: "Hello, where is your boss?"
The young man cleaning the counter was taken aback, then gave Casaman a look: "My uncle’s not feeling well, he went to the Hospital of Compassion for a check-up today."
Uncle, ah, Casaman rembered, the owner always said he had a nephew, a good lad. Now, looking at him, he was also a handso young man: "I see. Then give a cup of black coffee and a small scone."
"No problem, sir. You must be a regular custor, please choose any seat you like." The young man said, getting busy with the preparations.
Sitting in a single chair in front of a window facing the street, Casaman began to wait, while taking an apple out of his small bag and biting into it.
It was sweet, the very flavor that he and she used to love back then.
......
anwhile, Camilla from the Church of Justice was sitting on the second floor of the coffee shop, watching the man in black who had just walked in. She furrowed her brow: "Is he a regular custor?"
"Yes," replied the coffee shop owner, who was supposed to be at the hospital, nodding vigorously: "Your Excellency, he’s a regular, has been for over ten years."
"Then he should not be a suspect, Beta Group, what is the progress on the surveillance of No. 799?" Camilla turned to look out the window.
"Half an hour ago, the lady of No. 799 appeared on the balcony. Fifteen minutes ago, their child was in the yard... Ah, the child has co out."
Hearing this, Camilla stood up and walked to the window, seeing the neatly dressed little fellow.
Such a cute boy with rosy lips and white teeth, walking in the direction of the Central District; from what she knew before, he was probably heading to the library.
"He gave a silver coin to Price, who was disguised as a beggar, damn, the wealthy really are sothing," comnted a colleague by the window.
"This must be the education of the wealthy," Camilla said with a laugh: "Tell Delta Group to follow him."
It had been a month since the family at No. 799 beca a target, reported by a conscientious citizen for having no faith.
Truth be told, being faithless was not necessarily an issue. What made Camilla and her colleagues suspicious was the fact that this family’s life was too regular.
As the head of the household, the man of the house had a large sum of money in the God of Wealth’s bank and lived off the interest daily, going to the Salon to play cards, and spending the evenings with his family. On the fifteenth of every month, he would collect rent from his apartnts—yes, this gentleman owned two four-story apartnt buildings in the Western District. He had so much money that even Camilla felt a headache coming on.
As the lady of the house, she had a confidence that was unrivaled and a beautiful, captivating appearance. She took care of household affairs in the morning, and, as Church mbers who had infiltrated her circle reported, she was even more skilled at cleaning than they were. In the afternoons, she would attend tea parties hosted by local ladies.
As the eldest son, the sixteen-year-old boy was fond of hunting and held sway among the local youths. In less than a month, he had organized several gatherings and now was a leader among the city’s young gentlen.
And the child who just walked out, as the second of two children, was a student at the God of Wealth’s Business College in the North City District.
It appears that soone within this family must believe in the God of Wealth, but in reality, no one in this family has any religious beliefs.
This was sowhat puzzling, and in the investigation that followed, Camilla’s team discovered that these people would disappear on the 20th of each month.
Yes, disappear.
Spell Formation illumination confird that there was no one in the house, and fearing that there might be so inexplicable chanism inside, Camilla did not allow anyone to enter, but it seed there was indeed a problem.
Therefore, this 24-hour surveillance had been ongoing for a week.
Alpha was tracking the male head of the household, Delta Group was on the heels of the second son, Gamma was after the eldest son, and Beta would follow the lady of the house when she left.
It was a foolproof procedure.
The Bishop of the God of Justice thought it inappropriate to arrest the family directly; they should let the long line out to catch the big fish, and Camilla felt the sa, so she was hoping for a breakthrough today.
......
Malin and Jessica followed the map to Central District, arriving at number 806, the Thanan shop.
The decoration at the door was unmistakably Thanan style. Pushing open the door, Malin sniffed the air, filled with the scent of green onions, a nostalgic aroma indeed.
Choosing a street-facing seat, as soon as Malin and Jessica sat down, a cute little server ca over with the nu, dressed nothing like the folks from the Sydney Union. Jessica had previously ntioned sothing about a bright red dress with a long slit, but to Malin’s eyes, the slit only reached the calf.
"What would you like to eat?" Although the server looked Thanan, she spoke fluent Common Tongue, with a Sydney North accent.
As for how Malin knew... it was because his foster father always spoke with a thick Sydney North accent, almost lifting his tongue to the sky.
"Do you have any special recomndations?" Malin simply replied in Thainanese—the difference between Thainanese and Chinese lay in writing; the pronunciation was quite similar, so Malin had an advantage in the conversation.
The server lit up on hearing this, "We have the best desserts and fried noodles that everyone loves. Would you like to try them?"
Malin glanced at Jessica, gesturing for the lady to order first.
Jessica nodded, "No green onions for , I’m not used to that flavor."
"No problem. And for you?" the server turned back to Malin.
"More scallion oil on those fried noodles, and a large serving of sweet and sour pork," said Malin.
The second dish surprised the server for a mont, then she bead, "No problem. It is an honor for our establishnt to encounter a diner like you in a foreign land."
When she had left, Jessica looked at Malin, "What is sweet and sour pork?"
To that, Malin smiled, "You’ll understand once you’ve tried it."
Don’t worry, you silly wolf, how could I ever harm you.
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