New Gods of North America

“You can't see upstairs from the courtyard at all, and the directions with suitable angles are all blocked by trees, they must have designed it that way on purpose…”

Returning to the manor, Lina knew roughly where the dining room was in the main house.

She took out her binoculars and moved around to several different spots, both near and far, but couldn't manage to peek inside.

The landscaping trees near the main house were now showing off their 'ingenious arrangement'.

To normal people, they just looked like ordinary manor landscaping,

but if someone wanted to quietly observe specific areas inside the main house from the outside, they would find that their line of sight always happened to be blocked by various obstacles.

And these trees were actually staggered and not connected in large patches, so trying to climb them would make it difficult to avoid being spotted in the relatively open courtyard.

Even Doug's birds were chased away by the servants if they landed on some of the trees.

Liam could consider sneaking closer during the day,

but doing so now would be quite dangerous.

The area around the main house had become much more 'populated' at this time; just a glance revealed seven or eight guards in the vicinity,

and one could almost blindly guess that these people were all professional Beyonders.

After nightfall, several groups of people arrived at the manor one after another, indicating that someone was organizing a dinner party.

Doug might not recognize all the visiting guests, but he was relatively familiar with a few of them,

such as Father Bazzini and Father Pasil.

Plus Father Tyrrell, the one Conner had seen when he was working as a coachman for Wayne, who was a candidate for the position of Bishop of Virginia in the Exorcist Association.

Wayne felt a chill when he saw these names on the note all appearing at this manor.

With this lineup, they must have brought people from the church or the Exorcist Association.

It wouldn't be difficult for Liam to get in right now, but getting back out might be a problem.

Peter had secretly tried to approach the main house earlier, and the flame in the lantern held by one of the guards had started to flicker erratically.

It felt like even if the guards couldn't find the big spider in a short time, Peter's further approach would put them in an activated state of alert.

Although Wayne knew that these priests were probably in cahoots privately and that it wasn't strange for them to have dinner together occasionally—even Wayne and Inesha had dined with them—

what was the deal with all these people gathering at this manor?!

Whose secret little hideout was this?

If he connected the attackers with this group, Wayne suddenly felt that Virginia was becoming a bit dangerous…

Were these priests all bought off by Cohen Pharmaceuticals? No way?

If Cohen Pharmaceuticals had such great power, why hadn't anyone stood up to say a word or do anything for that Mr. Baker before?

The two guys who attacked the detective agency last night weren't participating in the dinner party, but they hadn't left the annex either. Doug's owl was still watching them.

To guess in a more optimistic direction, 'attacking the detective agency' might just be the idea of some of them or someone.

But no matter how optimistic, the actual owner of this manor was already a potential enemy to the detective agency.

To prevent being attacked at night again, the main force of the detective agency was still staying in the small courtyard.

And out of respect for tonight's lineup at the manor, the three partners of the detective agency had come over, bringing Liam, who they thought might be useful.

Plus Doug, Conner, and 'Strange Sound', who were already guarding here.

In terms of away games, even if it wasn't the 'strongest lineup', the average level, even at a discount, was at least the detective agency's 'main squad'.

Wayne couldn't see the specific situation in the dining room, so he could only squat outside and stay on guard for the time being,

planning to use the process of elimination when the guests gradually left, to determine the actual ownership of the manor, and then deduce the situation of friend or foe.

…

“Father Pasil, we're already eating dessert.

“The wine you shared tonight is indeed excellent, but Father Tyrrell has been very busy recently and doesn't have time to care about these material pleasures. We're all friends here, so if you have something to say, it's best to start before everyone finishes their almond tarts.”

In the lavishly decorated dining room, Father Bazzini sat in the center of the long table, picked up a dessert, and took a light bite, seemingly speaking to the air.

The seating arrangement at dinner tonight was interesting. It seemed that the host's seat and the main guest's seat were arranged at opposite ends of the long table, and those sitting in the middle were all accompanying guests,

but almost all the topics actually started from the center of the long table, and then spread and echoed like ripples.

Father Tyrrell, sitting in the main guest's seat, heard this,

and raised his eyes with some curiosity, looking to the other end of the long table, “Pasil, what request do you have?”

The old and frail Father Pasil quickly and shakily wiped the crumbs from the corner of his mouth with a napkin,

before starting to stammeringly answer:

“I have indeed encountered a problem, but I don't know if I should add trouble to everyone with such a matter…”

Realizing that the situation might be bad, the accompanying guests quietly became silent, and even the sound of chewing seemed to disappear from the dining room for a moment.

Father Bazzini seemed completely unaware of this, “Speak. Being able to gather at this time shows that everyone at the table is one, doesn't it?”

Meeting the gazes of everyone, Father Tyrrell also nodded in agreement, continuing to look at Father Pasil encouragingly, “Father Bazzini is right.”

Although the scene might not look so good, even Father Pasil had to admit that he owed Father Bazzini a favor at this time.

Some people have such energy, both seemingly doing nothing to make things go very smoothly, and also silently extinguishing the flames in the cradle.

Father Pasil's voice sounded so old that he might die at any moment:

“Everyone may have heard about my will recently… Actually, among the beneficiaries of the will, there is a child who is my illegitimate son.”

A burst of low laughter that seemed to instantly understand echoed in the dining room.

This was actually a good sign. When a 'not very appropriate' matter is publicly spoken out in a small circle, any reaction that can defuse the seriousness of the topic is far better than a long period of silence and unwavering alienation and cutting off.

Although the Holy Spirit Church is different from the Holy See and does not prohibit clergy from marrying and having children, relatively important clergy are almost insulated from those people because of this, with an invisible ceiling.

The situation of clergy having illegitimate children is even worse; it represents infidelity to marriage or faith, enough to make the vast majority of well-developed priests completely out of touch with those desirable large and small parishes.

But no matter what, this is not a 'crime' enough to put someone in jail,

especially for an old man who is about to die.

“And then?” Father Bazzini asked, pushing the boat along.

“The child is called Luke Matthew, and he doesn't know about this.”

Father Pasil tried to speak as clearly as possible, “The detective agency under Bishop Corleone has recently been targeting him, seemingly wanting to use him as a breakthrough to attack us.

“I no longer care about many things, and only hope that this child can avoid becoming a victim of the struggle. If possible, I also hope that he can spend more time with me in these last moments.”

Father Tyrrell blinked, and the words in his mouth sounded like an uncertain rhetorical question:

“This seems like just a small matter?”

Although Father Pasil was old, he still had some prestige and appeal in the minds of many local priests.

Using help to cover up a small scandal in exchange for more support didn't seem like something that needed to be weighed.

Then, in a chorus of agreeing voices, Father Tyrrell saw a group of accompanying guests raise their glasses, so he also picked his up.

Father Bazzini was as respectful as a dutiful minister, “To unity.”

Father Tyrrell, like a monarch, followed the accompanying guests and raised the cup in his hand, “To unity.”