The length was not long, and Syl quickly flipped to a page about 1453...
[1453, my father finally died of illness. His incompetence had already caused the people in the territory to lose their homes and families. Now that I can take over this responsibility, I must make the territory recover.]
[1455, the recruited refugees all have stable dwellings in the territory, and the plague was handled by the church because of a large donation. The current Bonsandi territory is a true, ideal utopia...]
1453, his father died?
Barro's grandfather's father, which is the great-grandfather, died in that year?
Didn't Barro say that his great-grandfather met her that year and that she saved him? Could this be a lie?
Syl threw the book onto the round table in front of her, quickly reached her arm into her trench coat to grab a scalpel, and pressed it against her own waist, asking coldly: "What do you mean? Your great-grandfather already died in 1453."
"Dead... What kind of joke are you making, Silver Crow?" Barro's expression seemed a bit bewildered, and he asked with some confusion, "My father told me personally that you saved my great-grandfather. How could my great-grandfather be dead? He almost lived until I was born..."
As Barro spoke, he also reached out to pick up the biography and looked at it carefully.
As he looked, Barro's expression began to turn strange.
"1453... passed away? Great-grandfather, Roka Bonsandi, died? Incompetent..."
Barro's expression was blank, seemingly unable to understand any of this.
Suddenly, he rushed to the bookshelf on the side like a madman, rummaging through the books on it, muttering quickly:
"No... that's not it... Great-grandfather was still alive in 1453... The history of the Great Saya Empire nobility has records of it..."
Syl stood up vigilantly, retreating step by step slowly toward the door of the drawing room. As long as Barro showed any sign of something being wrong, Syl would immediately rush out of the drawing room.
Suddenly, Barro's hand froze on a certain page, as if he had learned some truth.
"1453... died? My father also died? Thirty years ago?"
"Why..."
"Why are the memories in my mind so clear? My father shouldn't have died so early... I clearly listened to his words twenty years ago before I renovated Silver Crow's portrait..."
Barro was completely obsessed, throwing away the noble history in his hand, laughing and crying like a demon.
Suddenly, a black halo appeared above Barro's head, and Barro was frozen by the appearance of the halo.
The appearance of this halo caused Syl's brain to buzz, transmitting all kinds of crazy and dangerous thoughts to her.
Run... Run fast...
Syl wanted to move, but she couldn't muster any strength in her body. It was as if she had lost her soul, staring fixedly at that halo.
Quick! Move! There is something strange inside the halo!
Just as Syl was preparing to use her transformation to escape quickly, a fair, slender hand reached out from the halo, a magic circle appeared in her hand, and it tapped lightly in the void.
"Geez..." From inside the halo came an illusory female voice, sounding like it was complaining, "Don't tear open the rifts in the era you messed up yourself; you're making me repair it again... You idiot!"
"Cycle—"
With a low murmur, the magic circle on that finger collapsed into a black dot, and then expanded crazily in an instant. It was unknown how far it spread, but Syl's vision went black, and she almost lost consciousness.
Move...
It seemed that the cry in Syl's heart worked. In an instant, Syl regained the ability to move her body, and she quickly opened her eyes.
In front of her was a familiar guard, and she herself was wearing a mask.
In the distance, she saw the tall, thin figure of Barro running over.
"Silver Crow! Oh... I thought it would be very difficult for me, Bonsandi, to meet you again in this life."
Barro's tone was slightly exaggerated.
"Please, come in, Silver Crow. May I ask what brings you here today..."