"They're here."
Sitting in Mr. Boka's living room and drinking tea, George Barton suddenly spoke up, "Do you feel it?"
"...Yes, I sense it; someone is casting a curse on my house."
Boka's face turned ugly, but he simultaneously felt relieved—thankfully, he had been decisive enough.
His demeanor was exceedingly respectful, even to the point of humility: "Your Excellency, the Guardian, what should I do now?
"Should I go out to draw their attention, or just stay here?"
"Whatever."
The Guardian answered indifferently, with a brief response.
Although Boka was a witness, he was not exactly a good person either. However, interrogating him was a matter for later; for now, they had to deal with these scum first.
He said to his gryphon, "You protect David and Mr. Boka."
"Do you not need my help?"
Philip, lying in the living room, said in a deep voice.
