Cain Chester sat upright in his chair, dressed in a slightly classical suit, motionless, unable to observe the rise and fall of his chest caused by breathing, his bronzed skin was faintly covered with a dull color, and his dark hair was slightly curled, looking like a stone statue.

He suddenly turned his head straight to the corner of the room, looking like a puppet that had been manipulated to turn his head. His gaze was unwavering, even a little unfocused, but it was evident that he was motionless, or perhaps intently staring in one direction, and in that direction there were faint ripples spreading out from the unknown.

The ripples slowly gathered into the form of a little nightingale, clutching a letter sealed in red fire paint and a rose brooch with which he had been so familiar in its fragile and immature paws.

Cain Chester's gaze fluctuated slightly, and his fingers on the armrest of the chair moved slightly, but he didn't make any movement.

"Mr. Cain Chester," said the little nightingale, placing the letter and brooch on Cain Chester's lap, and in a cheerful and pleasant voice, "Madam has asked me to send you this letter and this brooch, and if it is convenient and willing, I beg you to give me the reply, and bring it to her." ”

"Who is your lady?" Cain Chester asked in a somewhat erratic voice, and he lowered his hand to pick up the rose brooch, his eyes looking at the marks on it with some confusion.

"Well, I don't know if I should tell you or not." The little nightingale jumped onto the empty armrest of the seat.

Mr. Cain Chester did not speak any more, but laid down the rose brooch, picked up the letter, opened the cover, and pulled out the letter from it.

"Dear Mr. Cain Chester,"

"Forgive me for my presumptuous act of sending you a letter directly through Nightingale, I should have come to visit you with the rose brooch given to me by Mr. Conte, my teacher of music and occultism.

"Observing the current situation, I think I should have contacted you earlier, but I shouldn't have rushed to see you, after all, there are some less pleasant guys trying to spy on you.

"I think you should know who the less pleasant guys are, and definitely more than I know about them. I learned at the beginning of November of this year that Mai Verti was investigating you, that he was investigating what you were doing on Olawe Island, and I think you should know who Mai Verti is.

"Based on my observations of Mai Veti over the past month, I think that Mai Vety's pirate group is carrying out an attack against you and the Temperance Faction's contact point in the Rorsted Islands region, and the focus is on disrupting one of your missions during this time, I think you should know what it is.

"I think you should be wary of that, after all, their moves are not small, and they have already fought you. According to what I've heard, they've not been able to achieve their goal for the time being, and their plans are still ongoing.

"In addition, some of their members are infiltrating some of those in power in the Rorsted Islands region, and if you are investigating their actions, you should already know about them. Certain activities in the name of socializing are the main avenues they choose, and most of these activities are taboo by the world.

"If you will believe what I say, then I hope you will take some time to reply, and Nightingale will bring you to me.

"Your student's student,

"Ella Poyesia."

Cain Chester withdrew the letter from the envelope and looked at the little nightingale.

"Your lady must have written to me after coming to the Rorsted Islands." He asked in a low voice, "She's planning to come over to see me." ”

The little nightingale nodded hesitantly.

"Your lady is a straightforward and reserved contradictory fellow," Cain Chester tugged at the corners of his mouth, revealing a somewhat distorted smile from the long absence of muscles, "a little like little Edmundo, not so much like the traditional Fenneporter." ”

The little nightingale tilted his head and did not speak.

Cain Chester stood up, made his way to his desk in an almost floating motion, picked up his pen and wrote a few words on the letterhead, folded them, and handed them to Nightingale along with the rose brooch.

"Take this brooch back with her," said Cain Chestermore, squeezing the brooch, "since little Edmundo gave her this brooch, then this is hers." ”

……

"That guy is your next guest?" The man asked softly stroking the woman's hair.

"Who is Mai Witty talking about?" Hearing the man finally say something substantial, Agnes perked herself up and put her thumb against her head to keep looking, her instincts telling her that this person was the point.

"Don't worry, compared to him," the woman raised her upper body and kissed the corner of the man's lips, "Your body is more fascinating." ”

The woman's hands around the man's body slowly brushed the man's back, gradually walking downward.

The man reached out and grabbed the woman's hands, pulled them to the top of his head, and at the same time moved his body, and said a little viciously: "Who would believe the words of a woman in the 'Red Theater' in bed? ”

"Well," the woman snorted, "I believe it now, anyway." ”

Agnes frowned a little distressedly, judging from the conversation between the two men, the so-called "that guy" was the lady's next guest, and if she wanted to know who "that guy" was, she needed to see what happened after McViti left.

And what is the purpose of asking such a question?

Does he have a desire to reach out to this "guy", or does he have malicious intent to do something?

"Then I hope you will believe it later," the man said in the woman's ear as he moved, "I hope that when I communicate with him, I will hear from him what you have told me." ”

“！” Agnes covered her face a little helplessly, and had some terrifying associations of what she heard, and couldn't help but have a feeling of "your circle is really messy".

Her spirituality seemed to be touched slightly, and Agnes withdrew her spirituality for connection and looked into the room.

A few ripples spread, and the little nightingale sketched out the figure of the letter and the rose brooch with her talons.

"Nightingale." Agnes patted her face and said.

"Ma'am, you seem to be blushing a little." The little nightingale said in a strange tone.

Agnes took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her face calm again.

"Alright, write me back." She whispered.