Annan had realized that this gentle youth who suddenly pulled him into an illusion was none other than Nicholas, whom he had mentioned to Nolan earlier.
Should it be said, "Speak of the devil and he shall appear"...
Though he looked gentle and melancholy, harmless like a young artist grieving the passing of spring.
Yet, Nicholas wasn't so courteous when he spoke—even a hint of divine pity and arrogance could be subtly tasted.
However, the person Nicholas was facing at the moment... was a bona fide deity.
The instant Annan heard that cold female voice, he felt strange fluctuations emerge in the space.
Distorted, amber traces appeared rapidly, like transparent lemon-colored jellies, within the pure white space.
It was as if the world in front of him was a white canvas, with someone carelessly dabbing a brush soaked in amber paint through the air—
