Iver silently studied the Old Duke.
No matter whether the "Anne Alexander" who gave birth to me and the "Annie de Vendome" still alive now were the original or the clone... one thing was self-evident.
The Old Duke of the Vendome Family was Iver's true maternal grandfather.
Only now did Iver truly realize...
He still had a genuine direct relative, connected to him by blood, living in this world.
The familial love he had once sought from the Old Queen had now come to him without his needing to search for it.
The Old Duke gazed at Iver as well.
His eyes should have been emerald green, but they were now clouded over, their color turned a murky gray. Even so, he could see Iver's face clearly without glasses.
"...You look so much like him."
The Old Duke stared at Iver without blinking and murmured softly.
Iver sat quietly on the sofa opposite him, while Annie sat beside him, facing Sherlock. Arsene, who had followed behind them, hesitated for a moment before taking off his coat and sitting alone on another side, occupying the largest sofa.
"Like... you?"
Iver asked softly, "Like you looked when you were young?"
Looking at the old man, who was so aged yet still bore a faint resemblance to him, Iver became much more docile.
"Heh heh... More or less."
The Old Duke was vague.
His voice was deep, and his laughter rumbled from the depths of his throat, like the roar of a tiger or lion.
He stared fixedly at Iver, then suddenly spoke a name: "Argon."
"What?"
"My name... is Argon de Vendome."
Old Argon tapped his fingers against the armrest, his tone gentle and calm.
The old man's voice was so tender toward this grandson who had suddenly appeared. It was as