No Hatred

**

"Did you find out? Did this girl call the police?"

Inside a quadrangle in City Q, Deon stared at a photo in one hand and held a cigar in the other. He raised his thick eyebrows and turned to look at the person behind him.

When the branch was evacuated, one master was still willing to follow Deon. Then he managed the house, responsible for the safety of the family. Afterwards, he became Deon's personal attendant and gathered information.

At around forty years old, this attendant had a scarred face, a token of getting through battles. In the past, anyone who saw him would give a murmur of admiration. Now, apart from some harsh remarks, he heard nothing delightful from others. The women living in the inner courtyard would scream when they saw him at night, so he rarely showed up in the building at late hours.

However, now the scar-faced man was already in here. The only reason one could think of was that he had something urgent to report. He said to Deon, "Yes!"