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The man seemed to say a lot more afterward, but Vili's head was spinning, and his attention was completely drawn elsewhere. In the end, he remembered nothing more.
Before he fell asleep, he seemed to be coaxed into repeatedly calling out three words, over and over again.
That seems to be the other person's name.
Willie lay obediently in the man's arms. Inside the dimly lit coffin, his crystal-clear, blood-red eyes shifted slightly as he fell into thought.
ah.
He remembered.
It looks like... Zephyr?
He was deeply impressed by these three words, not only because he had called them many times, but also because he always felt that the name sounded very familiar.
It sounds like I've heard it somewhere before.
Is it a real-life history book about vampires?
Vague memories are like butterflies that can't be caught, flitting about in my mind. I gather them in my palm, open it, and they slip through my fingers again. No matter what, they always fall just short.
Vili grew increasingly agitated, her hand unconsciously entwining around the man's silver hair. Her gaze lightly swept over the beautiful and rare color, and as if a lightning bolt had flashed through her mind, her movements froze in mid-air.
When he was young, he found a portrait in the castle.
The noble man leaned back on his throne, his dark red eyes slightly narrowed as he glanced down, his knuckles tapping casually on the edge of the chair, his silver silk hair cascading down like moonlight.
It is just a painting, yet the oppressive feeling it evokes captivates the viewer even from outside the painting.
And his name was written on the painting—
Zephyr Thun.
this……
Isn't he his nominal father?!
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