After emerging from the oil painting, Misty Gold did not take a seat. Instead, she clung to the chair nearest the painting, nearly crouching on the floor, using the backrest to conceal her entire body. Only the faint outline of a black-haired figure could be seen.
Moreover, from the corner of black hair exposed, it seemed that Misty Gold was even... trembling?
This scene left Angel rather puzzled, but he could not very well ask what had happened. He could only ask again, "Are you Misty Gold?"
The moment the words fell, Misty Gold suddenly let out a scream and shot out from behind the chair.
Angel instinctively assumed a guarded stance, but Misty Gold's actions in the next moment left him stunned. She did not attack Angel. Instead, she darted into the air and flew several circles back and forth like a headless fly, before finally hiding behind the crystal chandelier and shivering.
Angel: "..."
Angel had yet to figure out what was going on. Clearly, he should have been the nervous one, so why was Misty Gold acting even more anxious than he was? And Misty Gold did not merely seem uneasy—she also appeared afraid and evasive?
Angel felt his head fill with question marks. Had they somehow gotten their roles reversed?
Perhaps seeing Angel's tightly furrowed brow and speechless expression, Mad spoke from the side. "Honorable Lady Shava, please forgive Misty Gold's discourtesy."
Angel withdrew his gaze from the chandelier hanging overhead and looked toward the thick-shelled book floating above the table.
"She did not mean it. She is merely somewhat..." Mad paused here.
The hesitation was exactly the same as it had been outside the castle. Whenever it spoke of Misty Gold, Mad seemed unable to bear continuing.
Angel did not know what expression he should