From the very beginning, Kafka did not believe in Frankimir.

From the first day of his imprisonment, Frankimir was not used to seeing this high-flying guy.

The two are incompatible, and they don't share the sky.

But one thing was the same, and that was that none of them wanted to anger Yulia.

Seeing Yulia's angry appearance, both of them began to restrain themselves.

"What are we going to do next?" Frank Miir asked tentatively.

"Find those two bastards first, of course, and as long as they're in this house, we won't be at peace." Kafka yelled, seeing Yulia's hysterical appearance, Kafka's attitude became much softer, and he no longer continued to dwell on Frankimir's problem, but returned to the problem at hand.

Kafka couldn't say why, but he always felt as if there was something indescribable between Yulia and Frankimir. Kafka couldn't trust Frank Mir, but he didn't want to get too stiff with Yulia.

"Let's go back to the study first, at least we have to figure out what is going on here. We don't know where those two guys are, this place is too new to us, and it's too complicated, so we need to figure out the situation in more detail first. Yulia said slowly, it was all she could think of.

"It seems that this is the only way to go. Let's go back to our desks and see where the kitchen is. Kafka felt so hungry that he was pressed against his back.

"And what about here? Need to clean up? Frankie Mill asked.

Yulia saw that the atmosphere had eased slightly, and Kafka and Frankimir did not continue to fight. She clenched the AK47 rifle in her hand and walked over to the prison guard, who was lying in a pool of blood.

To be honest, Yulia is very uncomfortable and carries so many things with her. Pistols and rifles, magazines, grenades, flashlights, chainsaws, walkie-talkies, bulletproof vests, and all sorts of messy buckles.

Yulia crouched on the ground and carefully examined the guard's wounds. There was no doubt that they were completely dead, but it was surprising that in such dimly lit conditions, the murderer's marksmanship was so accurate that everyone was shot in the head.

The prison guards were wearing body armor, so the killers targeted their heads. Such a shooting distance cannot be said to be far, but it cannot be considered very close. If you are not a professionally trained, in such dim conditions, coupled with the recoil of the gun and the shaking of the gun body when shooting, it is almost entirely a matter of luck to accurately hit such a small target in the head.

While Yulia examines the body, Frankimir and Kafka never get close to the body. It is not an exaggeration to say that they are indifferent, they have been accustomed to the endless killing of this world since they were born.

The haze of World War II made it commonplace for them to be so sad, and the three scars on Kafka's face are the best proof of this. They don't have much time to grieve, and for them, the people who are alive and missing are far more worrying than the prison guards who are lying dead here at the moment.

They raised the AK47 rifles in their hands and cautiously observed the surroundings, danger could occur here at any time, they did not dare to relax their vigilance for a second, and any negligence could make them become like prison guards lying in a pool of blood.

"They're hopeless, so let them stay here first. When we get back, we'll find someone to bring them back, and we don't have a better way than that. Yulia lowered her head, looking a little sad, she was not a sentimental woman, her work also made her accustomed to seeing corpses, and she had no contact with these prison guards on weekdays. However, the awe of something still made her quite sentimental.

"Let's go, let's go back to the study and study the room. From now on, it's better for us not to go it alone and stay together as much as possible, which is relatively safer. Frankimir said, walking to the hallway outside the door, sticking out his head cautiously and looking at both sides of the hallway.

"Let's go, it's useless to stay here." Kafka said, heading straight for the door, eager to find out where the kitchen was.

Yulia stood up, sighed, and walked out of the room after them, glancing back at the corpse of the prison guard lying on the ground as she left.

The quiet Moorish Manor, where no sound could be heard, made them feel that there were only three of them here. They cautiously returned to their study as they had come.

When they entered the study, they had a sense of relaxation, perhaps because the second time they came here, they no longer felt strange, so that their inner anxiety was relieved.

After entering the study, Frankimir took the lead, holding an AK47 rifle, and walked towards the secret passage behind the secret door.

Frankimir must make sure that there is no danger in the secret passage in order to be safe. There was no one in the passage, which made Frank Mire feel comfortable.

He admits that he is better than other ordinary people, but this does not mean that he is invulnerable, and the dagger of the girl in the Tartar temple once almost killed him. Even though his wounds healed much faster than ordinary people, he never forgot that night's horror. Everyone was terrified of this place, and Frank Mimir was no exception, even though he had slain the terrible monster.

Frankimir was about to walk away from the secret door when Kafka suddenly shouted.

"Bastard, fucking damn it!"

"What's wrong?" Yulia asked, puzzled.

"Structural diagram, structural diagram is gone." Kafka shouted.

"What!?" Both Frankimir and Yulia couldn't help but scream.

"Bastard! It must have been those two bastards who took the opportunity to take the structural diagram. Kafka exclaimed angrily.

"It's weird. First of all, how do they know, we found the structural diagram. Secondly, from the banquet hall to the study here, there was only the corridor we walked through. We stayed there and didn't see anyone passing by, so I don't think it would be them. Frankie Mill said, rubbing his chin.

"Frankimir is right, if they took it, then how did they do it? In that case, they won't be able to avoid us and will definitely meet us in the hallway. Yulia agrees with Frank Miir's claim.

"That sounds a little strange, but if it's not them, then who else? Maybe they came to the study through some secret passage, like the one we found. We have seen the intricate design of this Moore Hill Lodge in the structural drawings. Kafka touched his head and said, feeling confused, he could only try to force himself to come up with a reasonable explanation.

"Maybe someone else." Yulia said.

"Someone else? Is there anyone else here besides us and those two bastards? Kafka asked, disbelieving.

"I don't know. Maybe there is, maybe not. It's just a woman's gut feeling, and by all indications, it doesn't look like it's been uninhabited for a long time. It's as if someone was still living here yesterday and suddenly disappeared overnight. There were still quite a few pictures on the bookshelves over there, and I thought it was probably one of them who took the structural diagram that was on the table. Maybe the man didn't want us to know the secret of Moore Hills. Yulia said uncertainly, shaking her head.

Kafka and Frankimir looked at Yulia, then walked towards the bookcase that Yulia was pointing to. The shelves are filled with photo frames of various sizes, some of which are alone or several together, some look like husband and wife, some look like father and son, and they are completely a display shelf of the daily life of a family.

Suddenly, Kafka cried out in surprise again.