Lanok entered the barracks looking indifferent to everything, a trait peculiar to French people.1

“Welcome,” Vasili greeted and gestured to the sofa. He poured him a cup of black tea, the smell wafting out and spreading all over the room. Afterward, he filled a small glass with vodka and walked over to the sofa as well.0

Click.0

As Vasili put the glass down on the table, Lanok took out a cigar case from his inner chest pocket. It was just big enough to have space for two cigars.0

Chk chk.0

The ember at the end of the cigar grew stronger with each puff from Lanok. However, it disappeared just as quickly.0

“Whoo,” Lanok exhaled, making sure to turn his head to the side beforehand out of courtesy.0

Vasili watched the smoke rise as he downed the vodka.0

“The vodka tastes strangely sweet today,” he commented before standing up and walking to one side of the room. A moment later, he returned with a bottle of vodka.0

“Vasili,” Lanok called.0

Refilling his glass, Vasili replied, “I know. I’ve already called it off. The mafia won’t...0