"Hey, brat, don't tell me Jacques knocked something loose in your head?"
In the dungeon, the person who said this to Tales wasn't Luosang the Second, who was laughing sarcastically. It was Miss Shilai, standing off to the side with her hands on her hips and her brows furrowed.
She raised a hand, incredulous.
"Being old-fashioned is one thing, but what are you trying to do now? Reform a murderer?"
Tales politely pressed his lips together and let out a breath amid Luosang the Second's laughter, which was almost enough to make him stop breathing.
"Of course not." He watched the Bloodline Assassin's laughter fade, lost in thought. "No one in this world can be reformed. They can only awaken themselves."
"Tsk, tsk." Shilai answered with a disdainful snort. "It's a real shame you're not in the Church preaching sermons."
Tales didn't answer. He only turned his head and smiled faintly at Shilai.
"Who do you think you are, brat?"
The captive's voice rang out at just the right moment.
"The Prophet Mohasa, here to save the suffering?"
Luosang the Second, having laughed to his fill, struggled to raise his head. His face was vicious.
"Whether I'm beyond saving, whether I can be reformed, whether I awaken or not—what the hell does any of that have to do with you?"
The chained Bloodline Assassin seemed to have suffered the greatest insult of his life and, unusually, began spewing abuse.
"Or do you think that just because I'm a prince, not only should someone be scrambling to drink my piss pot every night, but they should all be thanking me profusely afterward?"
When he finished, Miss Cavendish, standing on the other side, raised a brow and made a disgusted face. She even deliberately fanned her hand beneath her nose.
Tales frowned.