"Oh, it's annoying," Abel muttered with a languid expression as he got into the shaking carriage.
"No, what kind of tax collection are you talking about? That too, in the Marquisate of Yeats, which I had already tamed. When I arrive, I'm probably going to be met with resentful looks."
"I'm not used to living a life of being hated."
"That's difficult for me too," Shuguri, who was hanging on Abel's pocket, shook his head. The reason for his response wasn't because he understood Abel's predicament. Shuguri found it difficult because he had fewer opportunities to suck up spiritual energy.
"I just want to go on vacation like this."
"Then you'll have to go south. The east is far from a place for recreation," Cordell McNeil responded to Abel's monologue.
He had heard quite a bit about how the South was a great place to unwind, filled with numerous islands of diverse cultures, endless white sand beaches, and a warm tropical climate.
