"And I...am responding to your summons."
A soft, effeminate voice arose amidst the thick fog.
Clad in a white robe and donning a white crown, the decayed husband sported a faintly mysterious smile on his lips.
"My apologies, Prince Dmitry... and, the venerable Emperor Annan—oh, you're still a Prince, aren't you?"
He spoke in a strange tone, and extended an exaggerated bow towards Annan.
Annan's eyes were deep and shadowy, void of any response.
Like those of a marionette, they stared coldly at him.
—This was different from the nightmare he had witnessed before.
The decayed husband had come bearing unabashed malice from the very beginning. Perhaps this was part of the escalated difficulty due to the nightmare's distortion.
And faced with the decayed husband's malice,
"Dmitry" fearlessly raised his knife-wielding right arm, shielding Annan behind him.
He slid his left hand into his pocket, lifted his head, and gazed unflinchingly at the decayed husband.
