How did a king view the nation that belonged to them?
That alone was already something Ophelia found difficult to understand.
Then—
How did a Lostbelt King view the world that belonged to them?
It was the perspective of an absolute superior. Even if Scathach-Skadi was relatively the most gentle among all the Lostbelt Kings, such a perspective was simply far too vast for Ophelia.
"Sigh, dear Koyanskaya isn't someone we can rely on. As for Mr. Ruslan, personally, I think he has more selfish motives than anything else."
"Still."
Pepe pursed his lips and revealed a somewhat sly smile.
"I should tell you something, though you probably won't be happy to hear it coming from me."
"The [Tree] in your Lostbelt has already begun spewing out seeds, you know?"
Ophelia indeed did not cheer up. She merely shook her head lightly.
"The seeds don't mean much. It's only because the soil in this Lostbelt is relatively fertile, that's all. I haven't done anything special."
"Besides, those seeds have already withered. They can't serve as proof of anything."
At that, she sighed.
"Honestly, if only I could have preserved even the tiniest sample. Then at least..."
At least I could have given Lord Kirschtaria some sort of report.
After all, this was more or less a significant change in the Fantasy Tree.
"Haha, don't be so discouraged. I think this already proves that you've cultivated it well, you know?"
"Come on, smile a little. You're such a calm and collected girl, but that gloomy expression doesn't suit you."
"If you look like that, Wodime won't smile for you either."
"...Yes, I understand."
"Thank you, Pepe."
Ophelia forced a smile onto her face. It was far from radiant, and terribly strained.
Seeing Ophelia like this, Pepe's expression turned somewhat more serious.