He looked at her with a complex gaze, "Young lady, do you know this name? This is the name taboo of my ancestor."
Upon hearing Marion Euphemia's words, Gracia Euphemia's composed and gentle expression began to crack, her lips quivering slightly, suppressing a sob in her voice.
She managed a strained smile, "I... could you tell us his story?"
Clifford Cecil, sitting next to her, said nothing.
He reached out to hold her hand, their fingers intertwined, his broad palm enveloping her small hand, soothing her emotions gently.
Marion Euphemia noticed her emotional discomfort and didn't refuse, smiling, "Of course, please wait a moment."
He got up from his seat and hurried back inside the house.
The others, seeing Gracia Euphemia's slightly pale face, sat quietly, and no one dared to disturb her.
Not long after, Marion Euphemia returned with an old-looking scroll in his hand and carefully spread it out after sitting down.
