Ethemon sprinted through the cramped alleys, the damp, moss-grown brick walls crawling with dark green, the air thick with the stench of decay and sewer filth.
It wasn't until he brushed past a beggar that memories came flooding back like a tidal wave—back when he had just walked out of his target's house, standing bloody in the alley, momentarily unsure of what to do next.
The beggar was huddled in a corner beneath a tattered cloak, his rotting flesh gleaming with an eerie sheen. He didn't care whether there was any charity in the broken cardboard box before him, let alone whether Ethemon came running out bathed in blood.
Chapter 138