'I don't think I've ever met her…
My grandmother… I don't know, I don't remember what she looked like.
But… something I do remember is my mother's words, she used to talk about her, I would often hear stories about my grandmother, and how she was such a good and righteous person.
They didn't mention Grandpa that much, since after his 'death', Mother couldn't bear hearing his name.
So… why is it… why is it that I feel such rage towards someone who killed someone I've never met?'
These were Hans's thoughts as he swung his sword against the woman's fangs, little sparks of light illuminated the foggy room, and the both of them did their best to pierce the other's heart.
The fog was slowly subsiding, but it still formed a thick enough barrier that stopped Hans from looking at the crimson lady's face.
