Alaric was still knelt on the ground, eyes widened in shock and limbs trembling continuously.
The cause? Henry Bartholomew was right in front of him, what he was in his former life before he became Alaric Montclair.
Once a military personnel turned Baron.
The past he ran from had somehow caught up to him, even in another world.
"Oi, say something. Shouldn't you be happy to see me? It's been a while," Henry uttered, though not a single smile could be seen on his face.
Alaric thought to himself, 'This is just an illusion done by the woman.'
He didn't want to believe it was himself from the past. How could he? He was right where he was; there was no way there could be two of him.
Alaric knew this—it was logical and pretty easy to grasp. And yet, the more he looked at Henry, the more his entire being began to crumble.
