In the interrogation room, Belicia and Rafael both left.
Thales remained motionless, staring at the empty room on the other side of the glass with a dead look in his eyes and complex emotions in his heart.
Sunset Bar…
Yala…
Familiar names echoed in his memory, each stirring endless waves.
Since his talk with Gilbert, he, burdened with the heavy responsibilities of a prince, had buried them in the deepest recesses of his heart.
Until just now.
Thales subconsciously clenched his fist.
The Sin of the Prison River faced no external threats, yet it still raged and roared ceaselessly through his veins.
"Your Highness, would you mind giving me another push?"
The pleasant and comfortable voice of Morat came, coupled with the constant fizzling of the Blackvein Vines, pulling Thales back from his complicated thoughts to reality.
But it also made him more irritated and restless.
Thales slowly turned around to look at the Black Prophet.
