Trafford's Trading Club

“Watch here, I’m going out for a bit.”

Boston walked up to a guy who was high on drugs, kicked him lightly, frowning, “Lay off a bit!”

This dude made an OK gesture but shook his head in a daze. Boston frowned and simply ignored him, leaving the place, but not before locking it from the outside — even hanging a chain on the door.

When Boss Arno was here, the management was very strict, requiring everything to be handled with extreme caution — but sometimes Boston felt that it was overly timid — although timid as they were, since following Boss Arno, their gang had indeed gotten wealthier day by day.

Then came the question — with more and more money, yet no way to spend it, no way to enjoy oneself — how was that different from a salted fish without getting mixed in?

So after dropping the person off, naturally, Boston planned to go out and have a good time.

“Hey? Boss Arno? Oh… nothing, just reporting about Harry… nothing, he’s just not in a good mood… rest assured, I’m always watching him, definitely won’t leave. Rest assured!”

While calling Boss Arno, Boston quietly descended the stairs.

In the darkness, a figure emerged once Boston left, slowly ascending the stairs he had come down, finally arriving at the residential gate hanging with chains.

This sneaky guy had a deep brown hood, which upon lifting revealed a head full of bandages. His eyes were bloodshot with fearsome horror, he was… 403.

403 pressed his ear against the door, listened for quite a while, then took out a set of tools for unlocking. His skills weren’t advanced, it took him some time to unlock the chains and padlock on the door.

403 gently opened the door, hearing the sound of music from inside — the drugged guy was lying on the sofa with a bizarre smile on his face, resembling a drunkard, completely incoherent.

403 quietly walked up to the guy, glanced at some pills left unfinished on the table, grabbed them, and shoved them directly into the guy’s mouth.

The drugged dude got even more high, unable to grasp anything, further losing touch with his surroundings, falling into a world of spiritual hallucinations.

403 turned off the chaotic music inside the room, then came to the door of the room where Harry was imprisoned, knocking a few times with slight force.

After this, 403 directly slipped an envelope through the small window at the bottom of the door into the room.

At this moment, Harry inside the room heard the commotion, immediately standing up from the corner where he had been watching the scattered mess — he naturally noticed the music had stopped suddenly.

“Who?” Harry instinctively sensed something was happening outside.

Seeing the envelope pushed through under the door, he quickly asked a question, “Who? Who’s out there?”

But Harry received no response. Frowning, he picked up the envelope on the floor, which contained several photographs.

One showed a woman dining with a man in a restaurant, the woman even playfully offering a strawberry with a fork to the man, both of them laughing and smiling.

One portrayed the woman and the man walking slowly through a shady path.

And another showed the man holding two ice creams, walking toward the woman.

The woman was Caroline.

The man… was not Harry.

“Who! Who’s out there! What does this mean!!! Who!! Who’s out there!!” Harry suddenly seemed to be triggered by some string.

He suddenly crouched to the floor, looked through the small window at the bottom of the door toward the outside, yet only managed to catch sight of a pair of feet walking away — shutting the door outside.

“Who are you—!!!!”