A quiet night.
Julius Mamet, wrapped in a black trench coat, stood on the steep rocks by the river, his silhouette elongated and lean in the light cast from a nearby helicopter.
Winter had arrived, bringing with it the sparse, gentle beginnings of the season's first snowfall!
Footsteps approached from a distance.
Julius stood upright, his dark eyes seemingly harboring a whirlpool of obscure shadows, as he quietly watched the direction from which the footsteps came.
In the snow and wind, a figure gradually became distinct.
Forsythia Brown slowly walked up to him, stopped, and extended her hand.
Julius handed her two packages.
She opened them, checked each item, and finally shook the blood-stained dagger, now dry, in front of her eyes. A sneer spread across her lips, "Aren't you afraid I'll take the stuff and go back on my word?"
Julius smiled faintly and said, "You won't."
"Why not?"
