Rosell, Polluted

The black figure before her had indistinct features, but Bernadette could sense that this shadowy figure was her father—the man who called himself "Caesar," Rosell Gustav.

Her eyes reddened slightly as she stepped forward.

Rosell chuckled. "When I made picture books for you, compiled textbooks, and invented all sorts of little games, you were only this tiny. And now you can come save your poor old father.

"I remember you loved all the outfits I designed for you when you were little. Too bad that after growing up, you couldn't wear cake dresses anymore..."

At the side, Hobart remarked, "Emperor, shouldn't the words 'invented' and 'designed' be in quotation marks?"

Listening to her father ramble, Bernadette walked faster and faster. Suddenly, Rosell pressed a shadowy palm against his forehead. "Stop!"

His voice carried indescribable pain.

Bernadette froze for a moment, then immediately stopped.

Rosell gripped the nearby armrest tightly with his other hand and said in extreme pain, "Don't... come closer.

"I've been polluted."

The sorrow in Bernadette's eyes deepened. When she had first received this information from the Tarot Club through Cattleya, she had found it somewhat unbelievable. But later, she realized that it might be true.

Now that the truth had been confirmed, her heart still ached terribly for her father.

Rosell took a deep breath, seeming to recover somewhat, then looked at Hobart. "As for you..."

"Someone asked me to pass along a message," Hobart said with a smile.

Rosell was stunned. Why did that phrasing sound so familiar?

Then Hobart spoke in Mandarin. "Imperial Jade Liquor."

Rosell said, "One hundred... I... Damn it, you're..."

Bernadette looked at the two men in surprise. They were speaking a language she had never heard before.

At that moment, vivid crimson cracks suddenly appeared across Rosell's face, as though a