Sesillian's POV
I sat in my estate, savoring the taste of the tea my butlers had prepared, the faint clink of porcelain as I set my cup down echoing through the quiet room. The air was calm, almost serene—until the heavy thud of footsteps announced a visitor.
"You're looking really relaxed, Sesillian," a familiar voice said. I glanced up, meeting the gaze of a man with jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes. His body was ripped, every muscle defined. The last time I'd seen him, he was a wreck—missing an eye and a limb. But now, he stood before me, fully restored, like nothing had ever touched him.
"You don't look like someone who went through hell," I replied, raising an eyebrow.
He smirked, a cold glint in his eye. "Yeah, my grandaunt's got a talent for fixing souls. She patched me up so well, even my limbs grew back. But that's not why I'm here. Why are you so relaxed, knowing Mephisto's coming for you?"
