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... ash away and reject it like any sane person would do when beset by deadly toxic garbage, he dragged it forcibly into himself. This was his last breath of life, the last spark of mana. The trash, the goo, actively extinguished his life with every passing moment, and rather than pushing it away, he pulled it in. It was the ultimate in counterintuitive. He was staking his life on being able to conquer this trash.

But it was trash, and therefore, it was his. If he didn’t stake his all on tra ...

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Molitia Clemence was born sickly.

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“Yes.” (Molitia)

“This is the belly of a person who ate?” (Husband)

He frowned as he stroked her flat lower abdomen. He held her wrist carefully, as if it would break. His voice rose.

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“That’s…” (Molitia)

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The butler rushed to his angry voice, fidgeting with his wrists.

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