In front of a restaurant in Hamel, where people lined up in a long queue.

Three people, who looked suspicious to anyone, sat on a bench waiting for their turn.

A man wearing a brown coat.

A man dressed as a butler.

And…

“Eeek!! Let me go!”

A woman arguing with a child. They exuded an unusual atmosphere as they waited for their turn.

*Cough*. I held the paper number plate with “12” written on it and looked at the man sitting next to me, saying:

“Boss.”

“Don’t talk to me right now, I’m analyzing.”

I ignored Malik’s firm rejection …