Capítulo 128: When an Angel Contemplates Going Home

"I can feel it, deep in the marrow of my bones, that they're good cops. It's like a gut instinct, a harmonious melody that resonates with me," I say, pausing to inhale the room's charged atmosphere. The scent of underground and antique items permeates the air, infusing it with a subtle weightiness. "I pay my taxes directly to them, and in return, they watch my back. It's a reciprocal relationship, like an unspoken pact sealed in trust and mutual benefit. This is how police should function—maintaining transparent, open communication between upstanding citizens, working together with us for the collective good. Will you ensure that keeps happening between us and our good cops, Dea?" I ask.

"Yes, Master," Dea answers.

"Do you know of any bad apples, any rogue officers who might want to shut down our business?" My words hang in the air, as if they are particles of dust caught in a beam of light.

"Yes, Master. Her name is Mae," Dea replies.