Belicia and Raphael both left the interrogation room.
Tales stared motionlessly at the empty room beyond the glass, his eyes lifeless and his feelings complicated.
Sunset Tavern...
Yala...
The familiar names echoed in his memories, stirring endless waves each time.
Ever since his conversation with Gilbert, he had buried them deep within his heart, weighed down by the burdens of being a Prince.
Until just now.
Tales subconsciously clenched his fists.
Sin of the Hell River had faced no external threat, yet it still surged ceaselessly through his veins, roaring without end.
"Your Highness, would you mind giving me another push?"
Morat's relaxed, comfortable voice drifted over. Paired with the constant sizzling of the black-veined vines, it pulled Tales back from his tangled thoughts into reality.
Yet it also left him even more agitated and restless.
Tales slowly turned and looked at the Black Prophet.
But Tales did not move forward, nor did he go support the revolting wheelchair beneath the old man's knees.
Why?
Why here...
In front of the person he feared most...
"You brought Belicia here on purpose, didn't you?"
Tales's face was expressionless, his tone cold.
The old man in the wheelchair set down his teacup and turned back without the slightest concern.
"Not only so that I could see the consequences of my actions."
Tales's gaze turned cold as he stared straight at Morat.
"You know who she is, and you know her past."
"You also know my past."
"So you deliberately had Raphael mention Sunset Tavern."
"In front of me."
The Black Prophet stared at him, a smile blooming across his wrinkled face.
"How was it, Your Highness? A pleasant surprise?"
For some reason, that smile looked incredibly jarring in Tales's eyes.
Proud.
Dark.
Hateful.
Clearly plotting something.
"What do you mean? What are