Sifa, Field Agent

The Crimson Moon hung high in the night sky, staining the earth crimson. The man bathed in its red light had jet-black hair hanging loosely around his sharply defined, aggressive features.

He had a pair of lake-blue eyes. Though he wore a smile, his gaze was as cold as a frozen lake in winter.

He raised his white-gloved hand and lightly brushed aside several strands of black hair blocking his vision with one finger, then walked forward calmly.

A tall woman climbed out of the carriage behind him. She wore a Gothic court dress and had rare silver hair. With her wheat-colored skin, she held a document in her long-gloved hands.

"Mr. Murphy, we could have come tomorrow. This place hasn't been cleaned up yet. There isn't even a single worker here."

The woman with her long hair pinned high looked over the surroundings, making no effort to hide the disgust on her face.

"My dear Ms. Dana, we're here to work, not to enjoy ourselves. I believe we can overcome such minor shortcomings in the environment."

The man called Murphy smiled as he pushed open the wrought-black-iron gate. Then he raised a hand dusted with grime and blew on it before walking inside without concern.

The woman in the court dress could only sigh. She said to the coachman, "After parking the carriage, clean the hall and study."

"Yes, ma'am," the coachman replied respectfully.

Once the gas lamps were lit, the living room, which had been empty for quite some time, was finally bathed in light again.

The black-haired, blue-eyed man pulled the white dust cover off the sofa with two fingers, then sat down.

"So, what stage has the work here reached?"

The silver-haired woman frowned, wiped the high-backed wooden chair before her with a handkerchief, and only