The short story My Uncle Jules was simply too famous; Prometheus had almost immediately thought of it.
Coupled with what he had seen in the dream before, the people in the Throne Room seemed to address one another by all sorts of familiar names...
Prometheus decided to ask him directly.
Jules froze for a moment. The gears on his face turned as he frowned. "A transmigrator... what does that mean?"
Prometheus stared at him intently, trying to discern an expression from that mechanical face. "You don't know?"
"I don't."
Prometheus could not help frowning. From beginning to end, he had been unable to see through what Jules was thinking, and it was still the same now. Who knew whether he was playing dumb?
"Then why did you say you were Lina's Uncle Jules?" Prometheus sneered. "You can't possibly really be blood relatives, can you?"
Lina had lived for an unknown length of time, while Jules's origins could be traced back. He truly was Beatrice's uncle, but what did he have to do with Lina?
"Are we not?" Jules cast Prometheus a calm glance, then looked at Lina.
Lina was thoroughly irritated by his cryptic manner of speaking. "Why are you looking at me? I haven't even found out who my [father] is, so how would I know what uncle... what..."
Her words suddenly caught in her throat.
A moment later, she hesitated.
[Father], [uncle]—the implication was far too obvious. Prometheus had not considered that direction because he was a transmigrator, but now he too looked over in shock.
"You... know my [father]?"
"I do."
"You!!!!" Lina stood stunned for a moment, then her eyes instantly turned crimson as she roared furiously, "If you knew him, why didn't you tell me?! You lied to me!!"
"When have I ever lied to