In the dead of night, Iver suddenly awoke in the palace.
—Just now, he had felt a star rise as if exploding.
A New Angel had been born.
As a star rose into the night sky, Iver opened his eyes, dark-red embers burning in their depths.
"Hmm...? What happened?"
Isabel woke at once as well, letting out an indistinct mewl like a little cat.
After occupying the Good Lord of Rock Cellar City's palace, he had gradually arranged for the attendants in the caravan to move into it as well. After all, even though spatial folding technology gave the inside of the carriage enough room for a bed, the lighting and air quality were both poor, making it unsuitable for long-term residence.
All of the Good Lord's original personal belongings had also been burned along with his corpse by Iver.
But this enormous bed, large enough for six or seven people to sleep side by side—so large it could even be called a giant bed—had been impossible to find usable sheets for. Thus, only a small section in the middle had been covered, and they had made do with sleeping like that for now.
Iver casually stroked Isabel's head, kissed his wife, and gently comforted her. "It's fine. Go back to sleep."
He immediately got out of bed, draped a robe over himself, and came alone to the reception room.
The pure-white wool carpet was so warm that it was intoxicating even without shoes. It was over five centimeters thick, and stepping into it felt as soft as sinking into a cloud.
On the table sat two sets of pure-gold drinking vessels, while a complete set of pure-gold tableware was stored nearby. There were also about a dozen sets of lead tableware intended for guests. The Parthians believed that lead,