They were not actually far from the cemetery where Sparrow Sparrow was. Angel had come in specifically to give Bobota a warning so he could prepare himself in advance.
Bobota nodded gratefully. "I understand. And... thank you."
Whether it was the news of Sparrow Sparrow, the help Angel had given him during this time, or the soul materials Angel had specifically bought for him, Bobota had remembered every one of those things in his heart.
Angel, however, was noncommittal. "You needn't thank me. This was a promise I made to you before. Naturally, I won't break my word."
Though he said that, Bobota was still deeply grateful to Angel—not only because Angel had kept his word, but also because of the help he had once given Sparrow Sparrow.
Bobota wanted to express his gratitude again, but just then, he suddenly covered his mouth with both hands, crouched halfway down, curled into a ball, and began coughing incessantly.
When the fit of coughing finally subsided, glaring crimson filled his palms.
It was all blood he had coughed up.
As a result, Bobota's already ashen face took on an added sickly pallor.
As though nothing had happened, Bobota expertly wiped away the blood on his hands, drank a prepared potion, and said to Angel, "No matter what, I truly am grateful to you. At least you've let me see Sparrow Sparrow once before I die."
Angel silently watched Bobota. His condition was irreversible. Though Bobota had brought this upon himself—after all, he had accepted the Demon God's temptation and recklessly exhausted his fleshly body—such an outcome had been inevitable.
Their earlier estimate had been that he could barely cling to life for another year or two. But now, it seemed Bobota's physical collapse had already begun accelerating.
Angel's gaze slowly shifted to