"Even someone like Chachi can manage to carve out a decent life."
"Geralt!"
Heyman clenched his fists tightly. A face flashed in his mind. He could accept failure, but not being played for a fool.
Spatial fissures, temporal sensory distortions, the timing of their appearance, and most critically, the aura similar to that of a Patrolman...
Yet Heyman hadn't anticipated that the collision of all these elements would still lead to a misjudgment.
"What about the other intel?"
The middle-aged man lowered his head and relayed all the gathered information truthfully. Heyman's eyes flickered as he finally pieced together the sequence of events.
"So that's how it is!"
"Not long ago, Dora wasn't trying to escape at all; she risked using Soul Transfer. And as luck—or misfortune—would have it, one of Geralt's companions became a random target."
"In other words, Dora's body is now hosting someone else's soul. And Dora's soul..."
