Cyn finished putting on the last of his clothes before stepping toward the mirror—Xyrene's dressing table. She was seated, brushing her hair. Cyn approached from behind and began retying her hair into its usual ponytail.
Xyrene spoke absentmindedly as she watched his reflection behind her. What more could she ask for? In terms of presence, charm, and masculinity, Cyn stood at the top of the pyramid. She would love him either way—whether he grew a beard or stayed clean-shaven.
"There's another reason, actually."
Cyn didn't understand what she was referring to. He tilted his head slightly, giving her a puzzled "Hmm?" as if saying, Did you say something?
He was focused entirely on her hair. Xyrene merely smiled.
"The Cursed Pact Weapon—God's False Replica. If we obtain it, we might be able to help that person… assuming healing him through your methods becomes impossible. By using its primary function, we might cure him."
