“……!”
The name that slammed into my ears was unmistakable. Every nerve in my body sharpened toward it.
Yet, I wasn’t the sole one reacting to that name. The surroundings began to stir like a simmering cauldron.
“Tesillid Argente… Don’t tell me…?”
“Th-The Holy Sword’s master…?”
“Silver hair…! It’s him…!”
In an instant, all eyes converged on him. Instinctively, my muscles coiled with tension.
Whenever Tesillid became the center of attention, it always led to a “sweet potato-like” twist. ✠ ‘I prayed I’d be behind the child in the queue.’
As always, the world remained pitiless toward him. It refused to grant even the tiniest, most desperate wish.
Currently, three steps ahead of Tesillid loomed the colossal Scales of Sin, weighing the gravity of evil deeds.
The counterweight determining innocence or guilt was said to be a maid who…