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Castle Star Lake, night.
The guard's dining room was full of dust and cobwebs, with only two candles casting a red glow that created ghostly shadows.
But at this moment, many people were crowded in here, dining, the atmosphere noisy and lively.
"That old man, what's his name, Vitano," D.D leaned against the wall, his legs propped up on a bench, taking a big bite of bread, "since he arrived here, I've never heard him utter a single word, could he be a zombie crawling out of the soil?"
Zombies.
Everyone dining at the same table looked at each other, and subconsciously glanced at another dining table behind them.
D.D realized something, he smiled awkwardly and waved at the real "zombie"—Golov:
"Sorry about that."
Golov was drinking soup, and at the words, he dropped his spoon, his gaze turning cold:
"Why apologize?"
Doyle was startled by the zombie's fierce gaze.
"I..."
D.D realized he had misspoken, chuckled self-deprecatingly, and bowed his head:
