Hearing Colin's question, Conmonds' heart skipped a beat, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his back, but his face revealed nothing.
Beside him, Onions, filled with anger, also stopped in confusion and turned his head.
Martina... wasn't she dead last night?
"Perhaps I remembered wrong; it might have been the night before. When you get old, memory becomes unreliable," said Conmonds, patting his head with a smile.
"It was at dawn three days ago."
At that moment, Orkot, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, suddenly spoke with a voice mixed with blood foam.
Conmonds gave him a glance, his eyes briefly lit up, but quickly subdued again, and turned his head with an appropriately puzzled look toward Orkot.
"I remember very clearly, it was around three in the morning, three days ago. It was still dark, and she struggled fiercely..."
Bang!
Orkot's voice abruptly ceased as Onions, angrily breathing, clenched his fist tighter, and fresh blood silently dripped down.
