In the deep, dark dungeon, Tales silently recalled the account given by the Bloodline Assassin, while Luosang the Second wore a blank expression.
No one responded to Shilai's remark, which might have been teasing or sarcastic.
"Then why didn't you go back?"
Tales asked quietly.
Luosang the Second looked up blankly.
Tales drew a deep breath.
"After Crown Prince Midir returned, regardless of the truth, at least everyone—or rather, most of those involved—had their grievances cleared. But why were you still willing to stay with the Blood Bottle Gang, engage in illegal dealings, take money to kill people and do dirty work, rather than return to Mindis Hall and climb back up from where you fell..."
"He?"
Luosang the Second suddenly raised his voice.
"Midir?"
He let out a cold laugh, his tone filled with grief, indignation, and disdain.
"Of course. When he found me, gave me the Source Blood, sincerely apologized, hoping to soothe my resentment and grievances and obtain my forgiveness, that benevolent, compassionate manner of his nearly made it seem as though he would give me his own wife... Tsk, tsk, tsk. He looked so sincere and heartfelt, so courteous and earnest, so movingly genuine. It perfectly matched the scene of great figures lowering themselves and graciously befriending commoners, moving the wretched masses to tears with a few pieces of bullshit; of loyal ministers and filial sons convincing themselves, thereafter bowing before him in worship, dying for him, finding him piles of excuses, framing him stacks of commendation certificates, then beautifying his image again and again, practically wishing to offer him their wives to sire children with."
Tales furrowed his brow, doing his best not to respond to the other man's impassioned, extreme choice of words.
"But if the tragedy that dragged you down wasn't something he