Bapulor strictly adhered to the agreed time.
On the third night, the cult magician knocked on Ronald's apartment door right on time.
Clang, clang, clang—
"Ronald, are you home?"
"..."
"You are quite punctual, Bapulor."
Ronald, who had long been prepared, opened the door to find the silhouette of the cult magician at the threshold. Tonight, Bapulor was finally not dressed in his usual employee attire but in a dark red, ancient-looking robe.
Ronald took a careful look.
He could barely sense a hint of secret, sinister magic power from the robe.
It was certainly a magic item of exquisite craftsmanship, and it might even be something renowned within the Bapulor school.
The cult magician calmly accepted Ronald's scrutiny.
His gaze flickered past the doorway into the apartment, and not seeing the figure of Haloys, he indifferently turned his attention back to Ronald:
"Shall we go?"
"Let's go."
It was already late.
