"Master Watson, there are a few people outside the castle. One of them is a woman named Monica. She says that she's your fiancée. Would you like to go out and take a look?"
Ten minutes later, Liszt stood in the hall on the first floor of Blackmoon Castle and spoke to his master.
Watson was in front of him; he wore a small black shirt. He frowned.
His fiancée?
How could he have a fiancée? He had never even heard of the name Monica. Did his father, Edward, hide it from him? It should not be the case.
Watson phrased his words carefully. "Liszt, are you sure it's my fiancée?"
