At half past ten, at a homestay inn on the east side of the little town. The location of the inn was very remote and the building did not face the road or river. To be precise, the inn was at the end of an alley with dim street lights.
At the door of the inn, a burly man stopped and turned his head. Jean's head bodyguard strained his ears carefully. Not long after, there was a sound of steady and strong footsteps coming from the front side of the alley. The tension in Clifford's body eased slightly as he watched the figure of the man walking over.
In the middle of the night, the temperature in this small town grew colder and colder. Amidst the misty air, Jean wore a black, knee-length coat that made his figure blend into the darkness of the night. The hem of his coat swayed slowly with each step.
Clifford lowered his head briefly to greet the man. "Young Master Jean."
