That night, before going to sleep, Iver thought for a long while, but still did not drink.
Bram's words from earlier had been weighing on Iver's mind—he had said that the Bear Angel had already marked him.
Iver did not know whether those words were true, or whether that Social Darwinist Giant Baby, Bram, had simply been boasting... though ordinary people generally would not boast about something like that.
But since he had believed in the Bear Angel, it was hard to say.
Bram was even an Avalon native, and his father was a Half-Step Round Table Hall Great Perfection. Before Bram got into trouble, his father might have been able to accumulate enough seniority to advance and join the Round Table Hall.
At the very least, he could be considered part of the upper-middle class.
Yet Bram, who had been born into such a privileged family, had chosen to seek refuge with the God of Giants, who had a longstanding grudge against Avalon. One had to remember that just a few hundred years ago, the God of Giants' people had treated humans like him as little snacks to gnaw on. This enmity was even greater than the grudge between the conquered Narcissus Principality and the Stibium Kingdom. It was hatred on the level of a food chain.
And yet that was the choice he had made.
So Iver had to consider the possibility that Bram was either insane or a complete idiot.
He did not know what would happen if he went to see Isabel while bearing the Bear Angel's mark.
Would he draw the Bear Angel's gaze toward Isabel as well? Would the location of Morgan's Funhouse be exposed? Would Isabel be dragged into it too, or would nothing happen...?
Iver did not dare to gamble.
Thinking of