She was nervously picking at a hangnail, yet the face reflected on the other side of the crystal ball was calm to the point of infuriating.
Trickle—the sound of tea being poured.
“Do you know how many times the talks have fallen apart now? There’s no hope. If we fail to persuade them within the time limit again, then… Are you even listening to me?!”
“Ah. I’m a bit embarrassed. With how advanced communications are these days, a crystal ball… I had no idea the polar environment was that harsh. Shall I help you a little?”
“You damned bald monk!”
“Hahaha. Didn’t I tell you not to go?”
The Eastern Sentinel, the “Original Buddha of Haedong,” Bo-hyeon, smiled gently.
“This humble monk did advise that if the Witch goes in person, it will only provoke them; staying still would be helping.”
Crowley’s expression dimmed.
Knowing how dearly he cherished the Magician King, Bo-hyeon spoke again, as if to soothe.
“Of course I know you tried every which way. But the values of the South and West are convictions passed down for tens of thousands of years. They’re not the sort of thing that change just because you ask, or persuade.”
“So you mean I should just sit here and watch them…