Ansel and Ravenna, having disguised themselves with cognitive spells, strolled through the slums' streets.
The area was barren and dilapidated, permeated with an unpleasant stench. The ragged attire and disheveled appearance of each person embodied the very essence of poverty.
Yet, their spirits mirrored those Ansel and Ravenna had encountered in the marketplace earlier.
It was an authentic eagerness emanating from within, as if a flame ignited in their hearts, spreading throughout their bodies, imbuing them with a vitality that was not scorching but warmly vibrant.
"…Father," Ravenna whispered, "you said that mere satiety is a hundredfold more potent than the so-called hope."
"Do you still not comprehend?"
"No… I do."
Miss puppet lowered her head, recalling her recent response to Ansel about 'revolution,' while gazing at the filthy, chaotic streets beneath her feet.
"To them, everything I once considered is far too remote."
