Misa had on a dry dress and was squeezing her hair with a towel by the time she finished explaining her revelation to Royle. He sat still on his chair, cupping his chin in thought, his eyes boring so intensely into the desk that Misa wondered how there was no fire.
She tossed the damp towel on the ground and grabbed her pouch from the nightstand, waiting for Royle to say something. To tell her that she must be wrong. The day was getting dark earlier than usual because of the clouds, and even with the curtains drawn, the room had to be lit with the lamps on the wall.
“Then, we have to leave,” Royle finally said. He kicked the desk, sending his chair teetering on its two hind legs and swiveling it around so he faced her. It crashed back on all fours, and Royle was on his feet b
