"They are lying! Shameful traitors! And now they even occupy lands that don't belong to them!"
Lyle kept backing away as the old man in front of him grew more agitated, his spittle flying like the spray from a Naranya gardener's watering can. The bulging veins on his scrawny neck seemed as if they would burst at any moment.
These elders, who had been staring at the distant mountains and forests, seemed rejuvenated when Lyle approached with a forced smile to inquire about the curse of Naslan. Faced with those weathered faces, Lyle felt immense pressure, fearing that in their excitement, these elders on the verge of death might accuse him of murder.
"It is Naslan's blessing, not a curse! They should be grateful to return to the family!"
Lyle's smile froze on his lips. He had done more forced smiling this morning than in the past twenty years combined. Massaging his aching cheeks, Lyle breathed out.
Unreliable Karen.
