This immature prince’s way of solving problems was, as always, through murderous intent and threats. Of course, Reed paid no heed to Rigarese’s menacing aura right in front of him.
He elegantly twirled his wrist, lightly shaking the wine glass, and replied.
“If I let you meet your brother.”
“…”
“Then?”
“…What are you asking?”
“Even if I let you meet him, aren’t you going to try to kill me?”
“…!”
Rigarese’s flinching reaction was painfully honest. However, Reed pretended not to notice and just looked down at his glass.
In truth, he had a hunch.
‘It’s probably poisoned.’
Whenever Rigarese offered him something, it was never without tampering.
Predicting that this wine was also tampered with didn’t even require insight. It was like a formula.
As he looked at the blood-red poisoned cup, memories of meeting Rigarese as a paladin began to resurface one by one.
“You know, Sir Thesilid? I’ve hated you unbearably…