Using Azrael's Director ability, he had crafted a story just for Wilson. In that story, Wilson was an orphan.
By the time he finished dealing with Wilson, it was afternoon. No sailing ships were leaving at that hour, so he could only wait another day.
Returning to 9 Purple Thorn Street, he happened to see a postman slip a letter into the mailbox-the one belonging to his house.
"Who's the letter from?"
If he remembered correctly, that mailbox had never been used since it was installed.
He stared at the mailbox thoughtfully for a moment, then took out the letter. A gold-stamped rose sealed the envelope. This was a kind of magic that prevented letters from being tampered with; if anyone other than the recipient opened it, the magic would destroy its contents.
The recipient was Mr. Joey Clive.
Clearly, the postman had not delivered it to the wrong address.
That only made Joey more suspicious of the sender's identity.
He opened the door, went into the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. Only after sending Azrael back to the Round Table Hall did he leisurely open the letter.
The first line froze him on the spot, his hand stopping midway through taking a drink.
"I know you're preparing to go to sea, and I know you're going to look for someone."
At that instant, a cold sweat inexplicably broke out across Joey's back.
No one but him could possibly have known about his plans to go to sea, let alone his purpose.
"Six tomorrow morning. Berth No. 2 on the left at Lia Harbor's west pier."
The letter contained only those two cryptic sentences, yet his expression turned grave.
Joey began examining his body with his spirituality. Always vigilant, he could not figure out where he had