18. Two o'clock in the morning.

The Vespa and its rider pulled over in front of the low fence of someone's house. Tonight the weather was a little better without a touch of rain, but the temperature was still cold, considering the seasonal changes that seemed to slow down every second.

North clutching a white pouch, the man's pair of steps led him to the tightly closed door of Marra's house. Just as his hand was about to knock on the door's surface, the house owner had already opened it, showing a flat, slightly intimidating look as his eyes watched North up and down.

This was more like a scene where a wife was waiting for the return of her long–late husband. Marra's expression was not friendly, and the girl's arms folded across her chest.

North swallowed, the man realizing more or less the error of his ways today, especially after he returned to the fish market and saw Marra's booth neatly closed without him finding the owner's whereabouts-plus the girl hadn't picked up a single call from North despite being connec