Reborn as the Wife He Killed
A faint light spilled from within, and a figure slowly stepped out.
It was an elderly gentleman, his hair silver-white, dressed immaculately in a charcoal-gray suit. His collar was crisp, his posture upright, and a black ebony cane rested in his gloved hand. The lamplight cast fractured shadows across his face; despite his age, his eyes were bright—clear and steady, carrying the composure and quiet authority honed over years of service.
He inclined his head slightly, speaking in a calm, resonant voice:
“Miss, Sir, and General Eryx—please, follow me. The master has been expecting you.”
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