The Governor's Office doors extended to either side, crafted from old maple wood felled three hundred years ago. The doorframes were inlaid with delicate silver patterns, exuding nobility and the weight of accumulated history.
The office was eerily quiet. Even Anielo's earlier, hoarse roars had abruptly ceased, no longer echoing through the third floor of the Governor's Residence.
"Loren...!!"
Bound from head to toe by Magic Restriction Ice Thorns, Anielo began to feel waves of pain as his body was moved. Yet compared with the terror in his heart, the pain in his body was insignificant.
Seeing Loren in person once again, Anielo's breathing grew rapid. Every inhalation was accompanied by a faint choking cough, as if the air had congealed in his throat.
The surrounding noise gradually blurred. Anielo's eardrums sank into a silent void, with only his heartbeat echoing back—a rapid, chaotic rhythm. His hands and feet had long since become incapable of moving. The distance between him and Loren before his eyes was an abyssal chasm he could never cross.
The terror in his eyes, that fear which reached deep into his bones, bound him tightly like invisible chains.
Meanwhile, the two figures on the sofa—Lanchi and Sigrid—sat there calmly, appearing all the more composed.
Lanchi sat on the left side of the sofa, as dignified as a chess piece, gently stroking the black kitten in his arms.
On the other side, Sigrid leaned against the back of the sofa, propping up her chin with one hand while resting her palm on the armrest. Every knuckle revealed strength, as if the slightest wave of her hand would make the entire empire tremble. She glanced at Anielo sprawled on the floor, her gaze lofty and appraising.
The two had entirely different temperaments and postures. One was gentle and