Angel whipped his head around.
On the doorframe he had designated as the target anchor, a black shadow had suddenly appeared.
At first, the shadow was as dense as ink, but as his light laughter rang out, ripples began to spread through space. Like ink bleeding through water, the shadow gradually revealed its form.
It was a man in a wide robe and tall hat.
His clothing was covered in countless gold and silver clocks, turning against one another like gears and glittering brilliantly.
Upon his head sat a round hat shaped like a clock. On anyone else, such a hat would have seemed comical, yet on him, it did not seem out of place in the slightest.
As though this was exactly how he ought to be dressed.
As for his face, it remained pitch-black. Though the positions of his features could vaguely be made out, their exact appearance was impossible to discern.
The man was smiling. The upturned corners of his mouth were like an inverted crescent moon, and against his black face, that mouthful of white teeth was exceptionally glaring.
The moment Angel met this man's gaze, his expression turned incomparably grave, and even his body trembled faintly.
Even though the man's clothes and hat had changed, even though Angel had never seen his true face, the instant he heard the man's voice, Angel immediately recognized him.
"Angel, what's wrong?" Sanders looked at Angel suspiciously, unable to understand why he had suddenly stopped moving. From the look of it, he seemed to be staring at someone?
Angel looked at Sanders doubtfully, his brow furrowing slightly. "Mentor, can't you see him?"
"Him?" Sanders keenly caught that pronoun. With a cautious expression, he followed Angel's line of sight, but within his field of vision, apart from door after door,