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The two men entered the living room, folded their umbrellas and fastening them shut. They then gripped the handles and flicked the umbrellas diagonally and backward three times in succession.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Grandfather and grandson moved in perfect synchrony.
Tiz went upstairs. Behind him, Karon’s lips moved slightly, but he said nothing. He just watched as Tiz disappeared up the stairs.
Meow… Pu’er’s voice came from the sofa in the parlor.
Karon walked over and sat down. With practiced familiarity, he lifted Pu’er onto his lap. “Let me ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Alfred once said that he fought Tiz to a draw. Of course, he also said that Tiz only used powers beneath the level of an Inquisitor.”
“Oh, that’s normal. It just means Tiz never intended to actually kill that radio demon.”
“So, is it possible that Tiz deliberately suppressed his strength just to play with Alfred, and still managed to injure himself? For example, badly injuring his arm.”
Pu’er widened his eyes and stared at Karon. “What? Karon, would you get your arm slashed open by an ant’s pincers while playing with it? Or, even if the ant really did manage to leave a deep gash on your arm, would you then generously allow that ant to live instead of stepping on it and crushing it?”
“I understand.”
“Why are you asking such a strange question? When Tiz fought that radio demon, he probably had to be extremely careful in controlling his strength, meow, afraid that a single careless move would crush him.”
Karon leaned back against the sofa. This meant that the charred patches of flesh on Tiz’s arm that Karon had helped to treat that day when they had returned from Mr. Hoffen’s hospital in the hearse had not been caused by Alfred.
All along, Karon had simply assumed that Tiz’s injury was related to Alfred.
The reason that assumption had suddenly felt wrong was...
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