Half an hour later, the muttering lawyer Aemond had finally finished talking.

"Thank you very much for your trust in our firm," he said, holding Viscount Clint's hand, "all your suspicions are the above parts, as long as you reasonably avoid them, I am sure that the police department will not embarrass you." ”

Clint nodded haggardly, "Thank you, may the goddess bless you." ”

He rewrapped the gold ring and put it back in his briefcase. When it came time to take the box, he hesitated for a moment, but still followed his cowardly heart, and looked up at Yager: "Can you please help me put it back?" ”

"Okay." The migrant worker who served tea and water and was a paralegal worked with a paper towel to twist the silk scarf on the table, neatly tied a knot on the wooden box, and put the box in a briefcase.

Deftly didn't touch any corners the whole time.

On the other side, Edmond had already opened the door for Clint with a smile on his face, and made a gesture of please: "You don't have to worry too much, everything will be fine." I'll take you to the front desk to pay the bill first. ”

Clint gathered himself up and turned and stepped out of the beautifully furnished office.

Before following the viscount away, Aemond turned his head and glanced at Yager with satisfaction: "You did well this morning, but you don't need to follow in the future, go directly to the finance department to get funds to buy a suit." The commission for this case will be paid to you at the end of the month along with your salary. ”

Okay.

Yager bowed his head to him and straightened the folds in his trench coat.

This law firm did not come in vain. Half a day's work, as well as commissions and shopping funds, it is indeed a petty bourgeois lying flat company supported by the duke.

Liszt, I'm sorry you may need to stay in bed for a little longer.

He closed the gilded doorknob and headed for the finance department.

Clint and Aemond had been talking for most of the morning, and the finance department was noisy near lunchtime, with well-dressed men and women gathering to chat, seemingly completely unmotivated.

From a practical point of view, the firm doesn't need so much finance, not even paralegals, but they still hire a lot of non-essential people to give their clients the feeling of a big business.

Unlike Yager, who needs to reach out to customers, most of the financial staff receive a meager salary, which is played by the children of middle-class families who are idle at home. They don't really need money, they just go to work to pass the boring time.

A small number of them are high-paid white-collar workers who actually go to work.

Miss Molly was one of them, and when Yager walked into the office, she was tapping on her typewriter in silence, and the towering thick report beside her highlighted her identity as different from the rest of the staff.

"Hello, I'm here to get the funds to buy clothes for the job." Yager stepped forward and stood in front of her badge to greet her.

"Name, direct lawyer, sign the form." Molly, who was wearing thick lenses, threw him a form without raising her head.

Her hands raced on the ancient keyboard, almost knocking out the inked parts.

At the end of the line, she reached out and slapped the paddle from the right side back to the first square on the left, and then continued to work crackling.

This intensity made Yager's heart palpitate.

Fortunately, I didn't try to force my way into the finance department here. Although the salary was ten pounds a week, it was said that six people were sent to the central hospital of Beckland in two months.

Molly is the only remaining worker in the department.

It is said that she will be promoted to minister next month.

Yager handed the completed form back to Molly and glanced at her face.

Miss Molly's dark circles were darker than those of the Viscount who had stayed up all night for two consecutive nights, and her eyes were bloodshot, and it was no surprise that the hospital had reserved a bed for her.

"Here's the money." Molly handed him a few bills, "The entry allowance will be distributed at the end of the week, and the bonus will be at the end of the month. Okay, now you can go. ”

She was back to typing.

Taking the ten pounds she had taken from the suitcase under the table, Yager owed slightly.

Pray for Molly that she will survive until the day she is promoted to minister.

As for him, his immediate task in the afternoon was to buy a hat that would allow him not to bow every day.

Beckland's men often take off their hats when saying goodbye, and without a hat, he is never able to touch his head to show his lack of intelligence. *

Phew, hunters don't have an intelligence bar.

Jager slipped ten pounds into the pocket of his trench coat and got into a carriage.

"Beckland Central Business District, thank you."

--

Furth and her friend Hugh were shopping at this time.

Foirth was invited to attend Viscount Gleilint's cultural salon tomorrow evening, and she needed a new dress.

Although they had previously attended to make a deal with Miss Audrey, and Miss Earl did not seem to have any intention of attending this time, Foirth had to attend the salon all the time in order to cover it up.

It made her feel bad all the time.

"I'll just say that it's actually nothing for me to pretend to be sick this time, how can a person go to the salon every time and take a break once in a while." Furth pursed his lips indignantly.

"Really?" Her little friend let out a sneer, "Aside from the few times Miss Audrey came, which time did you attend?" ”

"I ..... a lot"

"Last week you said you had inspiration and needed to write, last week you said the editor asked you to revise the article, last week—" Hugh nodded his fingers and reported a long list.

"Okay, okay, I was wrong!" Foirth quickly slipped to his knees and rubbed his hands aggrievedly. "I'm just too tired, and talking to those people isn't really my forte."

Hugh squinted at her, "I know, but isn't that the only thing you've had this week?" Have you started writing your new book? ”

Furth was deflated again: "No. ”

This time, she was unwilling to admit defeat and began to mumble a series of reasons, such as being too sleepy in summer, too hot in the morning, too suitable for going out for a walk in the afternoon, too dark at night and difficult to write, and so on.

Hugh poked his hand at Falss and giggled, and at the same time hated the iron and taught him a lesson: "Excuse! You might as well say that all seasons are not suitable. You're going to sit at my table tonight....."

She was stunned.

Across the street, one of the carriages stopped in front of a handmade clothing store, and a young man with black hair stepped out of the carriage.

The young man, dressed in a dark green trench coat with an indifferent expression, turned around and walked straight to the handmade clothing store at the corner of the street after handing the driver a few coins.

The moment he turned around, his cold, inorganic black eyes glanced at Hugh on the other side.

Hugh is like falling into an ice cellar.

"Hugh? What's wrong? ”

Furth, who was messing with her, looked at her suspiciously.

"No, nothing." Hugh pretended to be calm, and yesterday's words quickly came to his mind.

I'll keep watching you.

No, you can't think about it! The demigod might even know what she's thinking!

Calm, you have to be calm.

Hugh looked down with a chill down his spine at the back of the vanishing shop door.

"Hugh! What the hell is wrong with you? What's over there? Furth raised his voice.

The corners of her friend's mouth twitched, and the hand behind her back trembled, exactly like the scared look she had when she had tracked down Zyglins.

"You don't care! Nothing. Hugh snapped.

Realizing that her tone was too heavy, she took a few quick breaths and tried to keep her voice low: "It's none of your business, I'm safe, thank you Folth." ”