North Borough, Aulka Street.
Kapusky Reid was sitting in a reclining chair in his activity room, lost in thought. In front of him was a fireplace burning with charcoal.
As a senior educator at a public school, he received a salary of more than four pounds a week, which was enough for a bachelor like him to live quite well, but the clothes he wore at home were patched up, and the teacups on the table looked extremely simple.
Without taking off his wig, the most striking thing about Kapusky was his high cheekbones and puffed-up chest—a deformity in which the sternum protruded outwards.
On his knee was a book of poems in ancient Feysac, but he hadn't flipped a single page even after some time had passed.
Kapusky's eyes were unfocused as he stared blankly when he suddenly heard a light chuckle in his ear.
"I'm very curious as to why you didn't run and chose to remain at home. Aren't you afraid of the police coming for you?"
