"What kind of person am I?" Durin lay back in his chair with a hint of curiosity.
He wanted to know what he was seen as in the eyes of his peers.
For in his lengthy memory, Durin had many titles.
The Executioner of High Tower, Rainy Night Butcher, Slayer, Nameless Gunman, Old Man, Whitebeard... and finally, they called the bedridden Durin the Master Assassin.
They all didn't know what this old undying man, who had killed all his life, had truly experienced.
Perhaps no one would ever know, so Durin wanted to know if with his new identity, there would be new titles.
"You're somewhat like an ancestor, always smiling, yet no one can discern anything from that smile. Your joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure, I can't see any of it," Lan En stared into Durin's eyes: "Sister Anta had doubts, Sister Reed could feel it, but the other sisters couldn't see it."
Durin reached out and ruffled the girl's head.
