Cork Street 121A, Winchester Law Firm.
With Arthur's arrival, the originally joyful atmosphere dropped to freezing point.
Arthur carefully examined Lorenzo's face. After a month and a half apart, this guy hadn't changed much, still looking as punchable as ever.
"I think? You've opened a shop brazenly, so I assume you're not planning to hide anymore. Next, you should be enjoying retirement, being a proper detective?"
Before Arthur came in, he stood outside for a long time. Despite the comical decorations, it seemed Lorenzo was seriously preparing for a better life, though the interior was still messily appalling.
"Winchester Law Firm? Doesn't sound bad at all."
He looked up, and the familiar Winchester hung over everyone's head, with a clearly visible engraved poem on it.
Yet despite this, Arthur remained skeptical about all of it.
"I think we're the same kind of person, and for us, there's no such thing as retirement. Our only fate is
—to die in a corner of the battlefield."
