“It’s not the same. But that aside, Ferid-kun.”
“You, too, noticed the footprints, I take it?”
“Uh-huh. But they all lead to—”
But Ferid interrupted him, eyes still closed, “You didn’t look at the bodies, did you? This house’s residents were not slain by a sword.”
True, Crowley didn’t check the bodies on his way here.
“…And what does it mean that they weren’t?” he asked.
“It means that the master of this house did not try to run away,” Ferid replied. “But why did he not? Do you think there can be found even one person who would obediently wait to be killed and not try to escape when the residents of his village are being slaughtered one after another around him?”
“…In short, what? Quit leaving me hanging and just tell me already.”
“Can I do it after I have gotten my beauty sleep?”
“No.”
“Ehh…” Ferid opened his eyes, clearly displeased, and tapped the ring-shaped accessory on his hand. And then… “What do you know, the ring fixed itself,” he muttered.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”