"Moo..."
Facing the Female Angel's inquiry, Leon, with a yellow bull's head on his neck, shook his head blankly, indicating that he had forgotten his name, background, and even race. He thought to himself, if you hadn't called me Mr. Minotaur, I might have believed I was a salt-cured fish.
You don't remember anything? Another poor soul indeed.
Leon decided to feign amnesia for simplicity, and seeing this, the rescue team of angels displayed sympathetic expressions on their faces.
In the numerous planes of Old Soil, few fates are scarier than being lost in the starry world, and it's hard to find anyone more pitiable than these Lost Souls.
The bull-headed gentleman before them was drawn by the Pure White Land, avoiding eternal drift in the boundless sky; thus, he was one of the luckiest Lost Souls. But having lost all memories, unable to recall his name or origins, he was undoubtedly unfortunate.
"It's okay."
