Ignatius Leclair's expression, already sour, turned even darker as his sore spot was hit.
These days, Delphine was indeed like a thorn lodged in his heart—pulling it out was agonizing, swallowing it was even more painful. He could only grind it away slowly with flesh and blood, wearing down the sharp tip.
This was truly a kind of madness.
"Ha." Ignatius let out a cold chuckle. Initially, he had wanted to vent his frustration to a brother in arms, given that they were both burdened souls. But upon arriving here, he realized—though Richard Shaw had his devoted son, what did he have?
Ignatius stood up, looking at Richard's perpetually composed demeanor, gritting his teeth slightly. From childhood to adulthood, Richard had always been as wooden as a block of elm, utterly lacking flexibility.
