"..." Irason threw himself into the performance, wiping away tears with his sleeve, his swollen eyes brimming with sincerity and confusion, "Why does my dear brother doubt me so? Have I really given you the impression that I'm the type to be lazy and gluttonous?"
The scholar recalled the old Faelga, who at that time seemed more like an ambitious schemer disguised as a good person, a solemn and serious leader with a knife hidden behind her smile.
"Sorry, it's just that I've been a bit rattled lately, and I thought that the common situation of a rebellious offspring running away with the family fortune had occurred."
"..." Irason looked at the stone bricks under his feet and exchanged a glance with the scholar, "Dear brother, it seems like you've had a tough time as well..."
