```
It was an utterly plain and tranquil narrative.
Ivan apologized to Annan with an expressionless face.
His pale ice-blue pupils were lifeless and merciless.
Yet no matter how Annan listened, it all sounded like silent wails...
Like driving a poisoned blade straight into the heart.
It was a lament that couldn't even make a sound.
"I can't even let you keep control over Winter's Hand—I can only minimize the use of the scepter's power, hoping they won't realize that the Heart of Winter has lost control over Winter's Hand...
"I know this won't be easy, especially because you are so young. To suppress these seemingly loyal hands of winter will also become more difficult. But fortunately, you have gained the power of the Tyrant. If it becomes too hard to control, you can dominate one or two of them, then rely on them for indirect rule over the others.
