At two in the afternoon, outside of a simple two-storied building that was in disrepair at the outskirts of the North Borough.
Klein, who was in his probationary inspector uniform, looked at the weed-filled garden and the vines that had crept up the walls. He turned his head in surprise.
"My combat instructor lives here?"
Shouldn't a combat artist who was selected by the Nighthawks be exceptional…
Leonard Mitchell, who had guided Klein there, snickered and said, "Don't underestimate Mr. Gawain because of his residence's surroundings. Although he was never conferred an aristocratic title, he was a true knight back in the day."
Having said that, the poetic Nighthawk, who was dressed in a white shirt, black trousers, and buttonless leather boots suddenly felt melancholic.
