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"It's quite a shock, huh? They moved faster than we expected.," the man remarked.
The soft trickling of water accompanied his words as wisps of steam curled up from the teacup, filling the room with a delicate fragrance. With a slight adjustment of his sleeve, he pushed the teacup forward, offering it to the person seated across from him.
The man's face was sallow, his frame nothing but skin and bones. He looked ill, exuding an aura that made it seem as though he was on the very brink of death.
Across from him sat a middle-aged man clad in black. Although it was warm in this room, he remained wrapped in a thick, dark robe. His weathered face showed no expression, yet his brows conveyed a trace of gloom and sorrow.
"Our Potion Jars did not get the chance to feast..." The man in black took the teacup first, seemingly unbothered by its scalding heat as he downed it in one swift gulp. Setting the cup down, he continued,...
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