Marcus tried to find the pce where this versation took pce. But the dire he ended up looking poio a very busy loading area of local farmers, where waves and waves of people just unloaded their produd then just vacated the area to leave room for others. There could have been more than two rounds of unloads when he reached the area, and the people who made that exge could have already left.

  Just this moment, a chubby man wearing a strange full body light yellow cloth robe and a white and yellow headband walked through the area with two buff looking men in light gray clothes following him. In this chubby man’s left hand was a bronze bell with a cpper that had red threads dangling below; and in his right was a short sword made of bronze s bound together by red threads. Marcus had seen a fair share of swords, but none was like this - the s were rusty, and the red threads were darkened and dirty. Poorly maintained, if anything.

  A local clergyman, Marcus surmised, and immediately walked to the side aly bowed like the rest of the locals and some of the visitors. The local clergymen, who were usually in charge of local temples, were generally well respected by the locals. There are apparently more than 10 of them, Marcus recalled, that represe least three or four different belief systems and therefore served different gods. And aside from managing the temples, they also had the ability and authorization to dispealismans and even perform exorcisms and blessings for the locals. Before this week, he would just simply regard it as local tradition and even superstition. But now, he was not so sure. Yet ohing that remained unged was his assumption that not all of them were good, and in fact a number of them were quite corrupt.

  “At ease, people.” This chubby clergyman smiled aly rang his bell: “I am just here to offer you my blessing and to se the bad aura lingering in the area due to the unfortunate events that transpired a few days ago.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Some of the locals nodded and expressed their gratitude befoing back to their normal business.

  “And thank YOU, folks.” The chubby clergyman nodded and rang his bell one more time while waving the sword sloly in the air: “Be at pead be busy. I am here to serve and protect all of you.”

  “What a pompous ass.” Just this moment, Marcus heard the voice of a young woman ing from the side.

  “Yeah, so ignorant.” A young man followed.

  “Shh, don’t ahe locals.” Another young man said with a lowered voice: “They believe him, we better lower our voices.”

  Marcus looked over, it was a group of three, all wearing light-colored clothes and gsses with frames that were also in bright and young colors. One of the young men had a backpack with a big logo of a rge pany in the South-Western District.

  “... let’s go, let’s go.” The young woman noticed the unfriendly looks ing from the locals around them, and immediately started rushing the two young men.

  “Whehey gonna learn - ” They left the docks area with several bags of local snacks and oic bag of fresh fish steak.

  This little distra did not affect the moods of the locals for long, as it took only a few minutes before they tinued selling their produce, their fish steaks and their rattan baskets with smiles on their faces. No longer hearing or finding anything iing, Marcus hopped on a bus heading back to the prect. The time was still early, and he decided to go back to the prect to do some paperwork, so that he would not feel that today had been wasted.

  After an afternoon of paperwork, Marcus went home slightly earlier than usual, so that he could spend more time with his father, maybe help him cook before he could start babysitting a newbie, and may end up doing a lot more paperwork and butt wiping than he normally would. Also, he did not believe his father had oasted the fried shrimp dumpling from Kevin’s mother, so he inte the leftover back so that his father would not decide to eat before him and have no room or appetite for food.

  The dinner leasant but short. His father ehe shrimp dumplings. Marcus checked his father’s meridians one more time after he went to bed early like he did ever since he stopped over drinking. It still appeared to him that his father was quite healthy, and there was nothing too w. Though he did realize that his father seemed to be going to sleep earlier and earlier each day.

  The m, Marcus’ father went out and bought breakfast for him just like he did yesterday.

  “Okay.” Marcus sat on his desk and started reading through the newbie’s file, with full attention to detail this time. Mick Cramer, up and ing uniformed officer on a detective track, previously serving ih Prect, and was quite well decorated. In fact he doubted even the most senior detective of the 17th Prect, Shrevas Pahaik, would have the same number of endations as him.

  “M, Detective Cai?” Shortly after Marcus’ putting down the file of the newbie on the desk, a tall young man with a full head of well groomed blond hair and wearing a slid meticulous uniform came to his desk: “My name is Mick Cramer.”

  “M, Officer Cramer.” Marcus was genuinely surprised: “Don’t you have some onb to do?”

  “Oh, most of it is just paperwork, I finished most of them yesterday, so all I have to do today is drop them off, which I just did. So I’ll be fine.” Mick Cramer responded, smiling aending his hand at Marcus.

  Marcus shook hands with this young officer, his grip was strong but the skin on his fingers and palm were smooth and almost callousless.

  “I’m told by Captain Ko that you will be helping me during my transition and show me how things work.” Mick Cramer nodded: “I’m looking forward to it. So what’s the pn? What are we doing today?”

  “Well, if you’re looking for a, then today’s not the day.” Marcus sighed and stood up: “Go ge into civilian clothes, we’re going to the South-Eastern District.”

  “Now?” Now Mick Cramer was the one surprised: “I thought we’re going to look into the reparations team - ”

  “There are other two detectives actively w on that, and all that’s left for us now is just paperwork. ” Marcus shook his head: “Now, uhat is what you want - ”

  “Nonono, I wanna e.” Mick Cramer immediately threw his cap onto his desk: “Please give me a moment.”

  Marcus sighed - he was ly expeg Mick to really get down to paperwork and leave him be for the day, yet he had hoped he would, because it would make what he was about to do much easier.

  After less than five minutes, Mick Cramer came out from the locker room, wearing a T-shirt, a pair of knee high jeans and a cap. He had a small backpack with him as well, oh a logo of a semi-famous pany in the South-Western District.

  “You look like a tourist, Officer Cramer.” Marcus sighed: “But good.”

  “Please, call me Mick.”

  “Okay, Mick, let’s go. And also, try not to be a cop.”

  “Uood, sir.” Miodded: “What will be our cover story?”

  “We will not need a cover story, I’ll just call you Mick, and you’ll call me Marcus. We met at work.”