The old sheriff looked at his subordinate surprisedly, knowing that Dico, with his steady and reliable demeanor, must have found an unexpectedly bizarre answer.
Suddenly, a look of curiosity appeared on the old sheriff's face.
"Who?"
"William!"
"Who?!"
Even with some mental preparation, the old sheriff's eyes widened involuntarily upon hearing the name, and he could not help but ask again without thinking.
And his voice even rose a notch.
It was not that the old sheriff was not calm enough, but rather that the name was too special, too familiar.
Just a few days ago, after learning of this name from Haite, the owner of Haite Furniture Store, he had been preoccupied with it.
Unfortunately, twenty years had passed.
With scarcely any information found.
"William!"
"The same William who robbed the 'White Wine Cup Number' twenty years ago, and along with Haite, Fornac, and Nack, massacred the Sank family?"
