Deep within the Count's Mansion's drawing room.
Night had fallen, and the moonlight seemed exceptionally clear.
Countess Rosalinda sat at one end of the sofa, while Lanci and Talia sat at the other.
Talia's expression grew somewhat unnatural upon hearing Rosalinda's words, but her face remained unchanged.
She knew that the unshakable lady of the Demon Race who was Countess Rosalinda's rival in love was her own sister, Isatia.
"Please, continue."
Lanci, having received professional training, would always remain serious and calm while listening to stories.
The hysterics of a defeated woman, while easily capable of eliciting inadvertent laughter, was only a trivial matter.
"Who knows how old that woman really is, she indeed does not age, but this does not mean she's truly young."
Countess Rosalinda's eyes brimmed with tears as she began to pour out her story to them,
