The appearance of such marks on Phylannor, who had inherited the power of the Soul of the Light King, made it easy to imagine just how badly her body had deteriorated.
That was why, at first glance, this princess who carried an aura like the sun gave off a frail, sickly impression...
"What do you think? Is it beautiful?"
As Gwen pondered this, a voice quietly sounded beside him.
"Very beautiful..."
He answered instinctively, then immediately turned toward the source of the voice. What he saw was "Hila," standing up and smiling at him.
Recognizing at a glance that the one speaking to him was not Hila, Gwen finished the rest of his sentence:
"But also very weak—
You're ill, Your Highness."
"Ha..."
With a light laugh, "Hila" turned to look at herself lying on the couch. She could not help but sigh softly before murmuring:
"It isn't me who is sick. It's this world."
"It's hard not to agree with that."
Shrugging, Gwen replied to "Hila" before asking:
"What should I call you?
Hila?
Or Your Highness?"
"Just call me Phylannor, unfamiliar visitor."
Phylannor waved a hand, then asked:
"And what should I call you?"
"..."
After looking into Phylannor's eyes, which carried a faint divine glow, for a moment, Gwen shrugged.
"I'm afraid you wouldn't like hearing my real name. You'd better call me Walter."
"Go on, tell me. Perhaps I'll accept it without issue?"
Unbothered, Phylannor tilted her head, wearing a playful expression.
"Ha...
It seems I judged you too quickly. I thought you would be as rigid as Hila."
Seeing her like this, Gwen gave a light laugh, then turned serious.
"My name is—
Gwen."
"..."
In an instant, Phylannor's playful smile froze on her face. Her aura surged, clearly shocked by that name.
"That's why