Just then, a gunshot suddenly rang out from downstairs. A second shot followed immediately after.
Iver's heart tightened slightly. But instead of quickening his pace down the stairs, he slowed down considerably.
He pressed himself silently against the wall and crept downstairs. At the same time, he drew the pistol from beneath his coat, lowered it slightly, and hid it in the shadow of his somewhat oversized sleeve.
Unlike when Iver had arrived, the oil lamp by the entrance was already lit.
From a distance, he saw a young man with brown hair, striking features, and a handsome face standing behind the front desk with a gun in hand. Smoke still lingered around the muzzle.
The frail young man who had been lying across the front desk had fallen backward onto the shelves in a twisted posture. He was already dead. There was one bullet wound in his forehead and another in his chest, with blood slowly seeping out.
As if sensing something, he turned his head slightly and saw Iver standing quietly by the wall.
The tall, powerfully built, black-haired man stood ramrod straight like a statue. The hall's lamplight illuminated him, leaving half his body hidden in shadow.
The young man's pupils contracted slightly at the sight.
He tossed the gun in his hand directly onto the counter and spread his hands to show that he meant no harm.
"Stay calm... Mr. Agni. Don't attack me. I've put down my weapon."
The young man said in a low voice, "We're on the same side."
"You know me?"
Agni spoke slowly as he descended the stairs one step at a time.
His steps were sluggish, and his feet creaked across the somewhat dilapidated wooden floorboards. But that only created immense psychological pressure.
At that moment, a flash of lightning