This was the second corridor from the lounge to the Hall of Heroes. It was narrow but people could still pass through.
Throughout his decades-long career from a White Blade Guard to an imperial administrator, he was able to familiarize himself with the palace.
However, for Byrne Mirk, from the time King Nuven's screamed for his exile, to when he carried his daughter's body, to the moment he walked away from the Hall of Heroes, the palace was now a pain that he could barely face.
As a sinner who could not be forgiven and whose crimes could not be rectified, his return to Heroic Spirit Palace was like a long dream, something that was out of his reach.
So after a few hours, when Mirk stood here again, he felt as though everything was like a dream. But how was this relevant?
Mirk buckled the hilt at his waist and told himself that his heart died twelve years ago. Today, twelve years later, another part died too.
