The door closed, and the room immediately quieted down.
Lambert stood by the bedside, still carrying a hint of unease on his face, and spoke:
"My lord, how do you feel? Is there any discomfort?"
He had never seen Louis in such a state—hit between the brows, falling straight down, life and death uncertain...
To him, this was the most terrifying scene he had ever witnessed, accompanied by endless self-blame.
Louis raised his hand to rub his temples, feeling that everything was normal with his body.
But deep in his mind, there was a new heart-shaped imprint.
"I guess there's nothing wrong." He said in a low voice, "Can you tell me roughly what happened?"
Lambert immediately reported everything he knew in detail:
"We were heading north with you, and the scouts ahead found an old man collapsed in the snow, with strange cracks on his chest.
...
Then the old man was consumed by the cracks on his chest, disintegrating and disappearing, leaving only a robe behind.
