The uncontrollable pain brought Ravenna to her knees, her hands clutching her head desperately trying not to let out cries of agony, but her physiological instincts mercilessly exposed her misery.
Ansel, standing beside her, simply looked down at her expressionlessly, making no move to help.
"What's the matter?" he asked with a light laugh, "Do you remember the night you broke with me? Do you remember the betrayal you so despise, and why it happened?"
"... No, I, Ansel... Father."
The diminutive scholar struggled to crawl to Ansel's side, clutching at his trouser leg.
Ravenna Ziegler, who disdained all the genius sorcerers of the empire and could exchange inspiration and ideas with a fifth-stage sorcerer, had never been so disheveled.
But this time, it seemed she was not just disheveled; she wasn't doing this because she had no choice.
Because Miss puppet was afraid.
