"Name?"
Dean looked coldly at the hulk of a man sitting in the chair.
This was just a summons, so the atmosphere wasn't as oppressive as during an interrogation.
But Harry and Carlo both chose to lower their heads, pretending to be wooden figures.
Because the man being questioned was Dean's own older brother.
Just one night had passed, but Beck already looked much more haggard. His bare arms were covered with purplish-red whip marks, and a smoky smell of cow dung emanated from him.
Dean guessed their grandfather had probably strung Beck up in the cowshed and whipped him.
So, it was said that living off a woman was acceptable. But *how* one did it, that was an art.
