Late at night, on the lawn outside the Palais Mermonia, several squads of people sneaked toward the entrance. As the saying goes, those who come in the dead of night are either up to no good or here to thieve.
Every one of these individuals had something hanging from their waist—colorful, but whose crude appearance made it obvious they were defective Delusions.
These were undoubtedly the old aristocracy who had once clamored against the Palais Mermonia. Leading them, naturally, were Tibert and Solveig.
Chapter 193