When Freya saw Hobart "return empty-handed," tears fell from her eyes again.
Hobart explained, "Your sister is safe. She's at a church of the Goddess of the Night Church."
Only then did Freya breathe a sigh of relief. "Th-thank you, kind sir. How can I repay you?"
Hobart drew his knife, carefully wiped it with a handkerchief, then cut a small piece from the ham Old Kohler had handed over. Tilting open his mask, he put it into his mouth and chewed as he said, "We'll talk about that later."
He cut off two more pieces and handed one each to Old Kohler and Freya.
The moment Old Kohler bit into the meat, a smile immediately spread across his face, as though the illness he had just endured had all been a trial for this bite of meat.
Freya had no appetite, but she did not dare refuse Hobart. She put it in her mouth and chewed, but it tasted like wax.
Hobart put away his knife before saying, "There's something I need to tell you. This smog was actually created by someone—or rather, by some force. It wasn't a natural disaster!"
Old Kohler nearly choked on the piece of ham he had been reluctant to swallow. His first reaction was shock and disbelief, but then he remembered the mysterious man's magical abilities and gradually came to believe him.
Freya was also stunned. Though it sounded unbelievable, she did not question it, because just now, she had clearly felt that she had been only one step away from death. Every day, people hovered on the brink of life and death on the streets of the East End.
She knew the scent of death all too well. Without the gentleman before her, she knew that she would already have died on