```
In the room.
Henrik leant against the headboard in exhaustion, sweating profusely, and then lit a cigarette.
Before he could take a couple of puffs, a hand reached over and snatched the cigarette from him.
"That was quick, wasn't it?"
Henrik's cheeks twitched, but he kept silent.
"Right, Roger has been wanting to ask you about the Advent of the Saint Heir."
He abruptly changed the subject. Ingmar didn't mind and, leaning against the headboard just like him, finished a cigarette in just a few drags.
"He's already asked me. I guess he must have made contact with someone and probably has some doubts about their identity, so he wants to investigate."
"I've told him everything I should, and I also gave him the formula for the detection Potions."
Ingmar didn't linger on that topic any longer, letting Henrik breathe a sigh of relief, "Nothing wrong, right?"
"What could be wrong?"
Ingmar countered.
