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As much as rooftops were spies’ go-to meeting places, churches were angels’. Derrida and his colleague had traveled alone to keep a low profile since their mission was to infiltrate and investigate. They wanted to avoid unnecessary attention.
Wayne chatted with Derrida as they walked. How absurd. Given the average looks of the reincarnated angels, they made heads turn wherever they went. It was impossible for them to keep a low profile.
In the short five hundred meters they had just walked, men and women had been turning around and eyeing him, who was beside Derrida. Their curious gazes were so heated that he felt shy. Moreover, Derrida stood out because of the all-white clothes he wore. He clearly wasn’t trying to be discreet.
Wayne would like to comment on it, but stopped himself to maintain Hesione’s image. While keeping up an amicable conversation with Derrida, he walked into a small chapel.
It was located in a residential area. Wayne went to the backyard with his two secretaries, spotting a woman praying with her eyes closed by the flowerbed, under a tree. Her pristine...
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