“A thousand years? It hasn’t even been ten years, let alone a thousand years...” 

“What...?”

The words that Skunk blurted out in a flustered manner—Fenrir noticed that the words weren’t false and was shocked. It was to the point where he got the illusion that his stopped heart was thumping. It was excitement in a positive sense.

He looked at Grid. A man who had, in a few years, completed a status that even famous people needed a thousand years to accumulate—Muller and Chreshler’s names seemed ridiculous compared to Grid.

Fenrir, who was half mesmerized, managed to straighten his expression and bowed his head.

“I respect you. Even the Blood King, who has the fate of the family, is just a small role for you.”

He didn’t expect there would come a day when treated someone other than his mother with respect. Fenrir was surprised by this attitude but didn’t feel shame. His head bowed naturally out of respect, not fear. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

‘It wasn’t because of Marie Rose that he didn’t mate with her. It was because he refused.’

Fenrir was delighted when thinking about Marie Rose, who would've had felt great shame. He didn’t hate her like...