Aboard the warship.
Xarion lay sprawled flat on the floor, staring blankly at the cold metal ceiling of the command room, his entire body radiating despair.
"Why did it have to be Vangar of all people? What was the Beast God even thinking?"
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
"I swear that old relic has gone senile! The matching system's been running for tens of thousands of years—what, the circuits are worn out now?"
"If its brain doesn't work anymore, it should just donate it already. Why keep it around as decoration?"
"There are so many outstanding males in the Empire—why pick the one everyone hates the most?"
What, did they think his Female Master was running a recycling center?
After venting, Xarion turned his head toward Vincent, who sat silently in his chair.
"Vincent, what about you? Vangar is your superior. If he bonds with our Female Master…"
He narrowed his eyes. "In this house, will you be listening to him, or will he be listening to you?"
