This blond-haired man had shoulder-length hair.
The king in a silver cloak walked over slowly.
His expression was solemn.
His gaze fell on Ian, his brows drawing tightly together as though he had noticed something unusual.
"What's that strange smell?"
Ian was a little surprised.
"You... have a very strange scent on you."
Pandora—King Arthur—continued in a low voice.
There was a trace of wariness in his tone.
Ian froze for a moment.
"A strange scent?"
He sniffed himself but could not detect anything unusual. There was no smell even under his armpits. On the contrary, he should have had a pleasant milky scent.
This was not narcissism.
Ian knew he smelled like milk.
Because he loved drinking milk.
He was probably steeped in the smell of it every day.
"Mm." King Arthur circled around him, his nostrils twitching as though he were sniffing out some invisible aura. "Not blood, and not lingering magic. More like... the scent of Death."
At those words—
Ian's smile froze.
He more or less understood what King Arthur meant—were these traces left by Death's gaze? Or perhaps traces left behind when he had watched that battle between Death and Raven?
"Have you encountered Death recently?" King Arthur was clearly on guard, which was only natural. As a soul, he would of course be highly sensitive to an existence like Death.
Every soul was nourishment to Death.
Especially a Legend-grade soul like King Arthur's.
For that reason—
King Arthur's gaze locked tightly onto Ian. His eagle-sharp eyes narrowed slightly, and the lines between his brows deepened. He slowly raised a hand, spreading and then curling his fingers.
As though trying to catch some invisible aura from the air.
Ian paused, the apple in his hand stopping halfway to his mouth. He put down the food,