Mystery: Mr. Witch and Ms. Hunter

Chapter 66 The Poor
"How are you two injured?"

Altaïr stepped over the three bodies of bodyguards twitching unconsciously on the ground and walked towards the two poor men who had just been knocked to the ground.

"Not dead yet... Thank you for your help, strange but kind gentleman."

The brave man has stood up by holding on to the wall with both hands. It is obvious that his physical fitness is not bad, but he is at a disadvantage because of the number of people on the other side.

"It's this lady you should be worried about... When I found her, those two scums were relying on their numbers to do something evil. But it seems that they lost interest after seeing blood, and instead began to commit those barbaric acts."

The man struggled to walk towards the worker-like person lying on the ground and carefully checked her condition. She seemed to have exhausted her energy in the beating by those barbarians, but fortunately, the two drunks who participated in the beating did not know how to effectively use the advantages brought by their physical fitness, so her injuries were not serious.

As the gentleman stepped into the light, Altaïr saw his face clearly in the dim glow.

"Mr. Statham?"

Altaïr asked uncertainly.

"...Altaïr?" He turned around upon hearing that. With his eye sockets bruised from being hit, it took him a while to focus and recognize that the person who saved him was his good neighbor.

"Goddess, it really is you."

Altaïr walked over quickly, and he and Mr. Statham each held up one side of the poor woman's body.

"Is this person also an acquaintance of yours?"

Altaïr asked Mr. Statham as he pulled the woman's arm around his shoulders.

"...Ah, of course not." Mr. Statham seemed to have a slight tinnitus due to the beating just now, and it took him a while to react.

"She seems to be a textile worker, but I have never seen her before. However, the two moves you made just now to knock down those guys were really neat. Even the instructors we had when we were training in the army probably couldn't have been as effective as you."

Mr. Statham praised, "I can see that you are one of the most professional bodyguards. Have you ever served in the army?"

"Ah, I'm just an amateur." Altaïr brushed off the question vaguely. "Since you don't know her, where should we take her? The nearest hospital or a charity hospital a little further away?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

Mr. Statham shook his head.

"I'm not blaming you, Mr. Altaïr...it's just that poor people like us generally don't go to even the cheapest charity hospital unless we think there's something wrong with our internal organs or bones."

"Once you enter there, you have to stay in bed for a long time. Not only is the money spent, but the most terrible thing is the habit."

Mr. Statham said this in a heavy voice, and the injured female worker nodded slightly in response.

"People like us must never lie down even if we are sick or injured, because once we lie down, we may not be able to get up..."

If you lie down, you will never get up again... Altaïr repeated these words silently in his mind, feeling that they were like a stone tied with a rope, firmly tied to his heart, causing it to sink continuously.

"Well, can you still hear me, ma'am?" Altaïr exhaled. "Where is your residence? This gentleman and I will take you back."

"Mistletoe Street, my home is at 12 Mistletoe Street..." the lady replied in a low voice, "Thank you so much."

"It's okay, it's just a piece of cake for me."

Altaïr nodded slightly, handed the female worker to Mr. Statham for support, and went to the street to hail a cab.

However, upon seeing the two men carrying the injured lady, the cab refused to stop, no matter how Altaïr beckoned.

Seeing the lady and Mr. Statham shivering in the cold wind due to blood loss, Altaïr was a little angry. When the next carriage passed by, he simply didn't wave, but bent down and exerted force, and in a few steps he stuck to the side of the carriage, grabbed the shaft of the carriage, and jumped to the panicked coachman.

Altaïr reached out with the short stick, which was stained with cold and sticky blood, and thrust it directly into the coachman's chin.

"Stop the car. Take us to 12 Mistletoe Street. I'll give you 10 soli for the fare."

Altaïr leaned closer to the other's ear and said, "Or would you rather I drive your carriage there myself?"

"Okay, okay!" The driver hurriedly parked the car and let Altaïr and the others get in. Altaïr did not tell the driver where he should go if he drove the car himself, and the driver did not dare to think about it. What's more, the reward he gave was nearly 10 times the fare.

……

By the time Altaïr and Mr. Statham brought the poor lady to her home, it was almost six o'clock. Altaïr found the key in the lady's pocket and opened the door, and he and Mr. Statham carried the already unconscious lady into the house.

"Is Mary back?" An old female voice came from inside the house.

"Uh... what should I say, ma'am?" Altaïr smiled bitterly. "She is indeed back, but she is not in good condition. Is it convenient for us to carry her in?"

"Goddess, what happened to Marisol?"

The voice of the person inside was anxious, "Quick, let me see her!"

Upon hearing this, Altaïr lifted the thick cotton curtain with one hand and put the maid named Marisol on the bed in the room.

"Goddess, what's going on? Mary, my child, how did you get beaten like this?"

On the not very spacious bed, there lay an old woman. Perhaps she was not that old, but in the East District, the traces of time left on everyone's face were particularly clear. Seeing her daughter being carried in, she struggled to move her body inward with both hands to make room for Marisol.

"It's a long story, ma'am." Altaïr straightened his wrinkled collar. "In fact, I don't know much. Let Mr. Statham tell you."

Statham nodded and began to tell the story to the woman, who was probably in her 50s or 60s.

However, after hearing this, the other party was not angry or shocked. The old woman was surprisingly calm.

"Is that so... I can't help it. After all, this is the fate of the poor."

"I'm sorry, two kind gentlemen... I can't thank you properly because of my disability. There should be some money in the cabinet over there. You can take it as a reward for saving my daughter."

"No, ma'am. I'm not doing this for money." Altaïr refused. He wanted to leave here. The heavy topic of reality made him breathless. Although these people did not mean to blame him, there was still a kind of inner discomfort tormenting his spirit.

"Mr. Statham, I have some business partners to discuss at the Brave Bar. Here are your fare for tomorrow's trip. Sophie will be taken care of by Vinata, so don't worry."

He pulled a five-pound note from his wallet, the largest note he had on his trip, and thrust it into Mr. Statham's hand. It was far more than the fare, but Altaïr was sure Mr. Statham knew what he meant.

"I'm sure you know what to do. Well, I'll take my leave now."

After saying this, Altaïr fled from there, got into a hired carriage and left 12 Mistletoe Street.

(End of this chapter)