Mystery: Mr. Witch and Ms. Hunter

Chapter 72 Preliminary Interview
"Find a girlfriend and settle down...you sound serious about it."

Altaïr stood by the road, watching the other party's carriage gradually go away. After a long time, he shook his head, sighed, and returned home.

Vinata was holding the book "Storm Revelation" and reading the stories inside to Sophie. Her golden curly hair fell to her shoulders, and under the light of the gas lamp, it sparkled sweetly like melted honey, making people think of beautiful things such as dreams, candy or malt at a glance.

"Next time you need me to do this kind of cover, tell me in advance." Altaïr walked past her. "Go to bed after reading this paragraph. We all have to get up early tomorrow, and Sophie has to go to work in the factory."

"You understand what I mean, don't you?"

Venata shrugged, "Okay, I'll pay attention next time."

"Good night, Mr. Brewster." Sophie grinned at Altaïr and drew the symbol of the storm on her chest.

"Good night, little one. Have a sweet dream." Altaïr tapped his chest four times. "Although you are not a believer of the goddess, she would not mind protecting one more lovely girl like this."

"What a smooth talker..." Vinata clicked her tongue twice.

"Good night to you too, Miss Vinata Sevens." Without waiting for her to say anything that would affect his mood, Altaïr interrupted her next speech with a single word, "Good night."

"Tsk..." Venata hesitated for a moment and was about to say something, but she found that Altaïr had already taken his toiletries and went back upstairs to sleep.

"Sister Venata, what happened next? What happened to Lord Saint Spencer?"

Sophie tugged at the hem of Venata's clothes.

"Twenty years later, he died of old age." Venata answered absentmindedly. "Okay, the story is over, go to bed..."

Sophie was stunned for a moment, then burst into tears.

……

The next day, when Altaïr went downstairs early to cook, he found Venata sitting at the dining table. She looked a little haggard, as if she had not slept well at night.

"What's the matter? You look listless?"

Altaïr asked curiously.

"Because Saint Spencer died of old age." Venata replied without even looking up.

"???"

Altaïr looked confused.

"Forget it, go cook your meal."

Vinata yawned loudly, then fell sideways on the sofa and began to take a nap.

"baffling……"

Altaïr shrugged and continued preparing breakfast for the three.

When Sophie got up from the bed and sat at the dining table with sleepy eyes, Altaïr just brought breakfast. The three of them ate a quick meal, and Michael Joseph arrived as promised.

"Then I'm going out." After confirming that his belongings were basically intact, Altaïr and Venata said goodbye. Since it was not appropriate to use too obvious extraordinary abilities in front of Michael, he did not bring any magical items. He just put the revolver into the gun bag under his armpit, and then took his oak cane with silver on the front and went out with Joseph. "Mike invited us to dinner at Serenzo Restaurant tonight. You can prepare first."

Venata nodded to show that she understood. Sophie, on the other hand, seemed to have calmed down from the story she heard yesterday and said goodbye to Altaïr warmly.

……

"Is that really your neighbor's child?"

On the public carriage, when Michael asked Altaïr the same question for the third time, Altaïr finally became impatient.

"Mike, the last time I answered the same question three times was when I was pointed at by fourteen steam rifles at Sivella Field. Could you please not remind me of that embarrassing moment?"

Altaïr's face was stern. Just now, he even seriously considered whether to use "instigation" to make Michael shut up. After all, the other party did not look like he was blessed by a saint.

"Haha, after all, it feels natural when you three are together." Mike Joseph laughed awkwardly. "Goddess, when I was with that child, I felt that I was not seeing a capable bodyguard and bounty hunter, but a newlywed gentleman who cares about his family. I feel more and more that asking you to be the godfather of my child is the right decision."

"What's the name of the child? Do you have any idea?"

Altaïr took the opportunity to change the subject.

"Dr. Allen, I and other people in the circle have discussed this for a long time these days, and finally decided that if it's a girl, we should use her mother's name, Tanya Joseph Jr. How about it? Although it's very ordinary, it sounds nice and is easy to write."

When talking about his children, Mike became interested and spoke excitedly.

"It's really convenient..."

Altaïr commented.

"What do you know? Sociologists call this a bonding relationship." Mike sneered, "Using parents' names helps children build a close relationship with their parents. This is part of early education."

"Let's assume there is such a relationship," Altaïr shrugged. "If it's a boy, then he'll be called Little Michael Joseph?"

"No, if it's a boy, I want to call him Sherlock."

Mike Joseph's expression grew grave.

"I hope this child will be more successful than me in the future... Sherlock has the courage that I don't have in these aspects."

Altair was at a loss for words for a moment. After a long moment, he patted Mike on the shoulder.

"That's not the way a journalist reporting on air pollution and worker treatment should behave," Altaïr consoled him. "I think reporting on serial murders and the crimes of the human trafficker Capin also takes a lot of courage."

"But now that courage has worn off."

Mike laughed bitterly. "I can't compare to Sherlock now. Before I got married, even if I saw something shameful, I would have dared to rush up and poke open the skylight. After all, I had no worries at that time, and my life was not worth a few pounds."

"But now that I have Tanea and a child, I can no longer say whatever I want to say as before."

Mike shook his head, and then said in a self-consoling way: "But it doesn't matter. When you settle down like me, you will find that this is not bad. At least you don't have to walk on the edge of death all the time."

Altaïr opened his mouth for a moment before asking a question.

"What kind of person is Sherlock? I didn't know much about him before."

Mike lowered his head and thought for a moment, then replied, "A true hero."

"Oh." Altaïr nodded and closed his mouth again.

The two sat in silence in the first public carriage of the morning until the fare collector called out the name of their destination.

"Buffett Garment and Textile Associates"!
(End of this chapter)