"But merely a lost descendant from outside, Sorlon, what merit do you possess to dare endure such favor from your great-uncle?"
In his prime, still full of vigor, Alexander stood up, hands clasped behind his back, and walked over to a harp exquisitely carved with grass, vines, and forests. He reached out and gently plucked the strings.
Even when plucked by an uncouth person like Alexander, who knew nothing of music, a melodious and pleasant sound resonated, akin to a clear spring trickling under the moon, washing the soul and soothing the spirit with its divinity.
"Alas, are you so eager to have an outstanding progeny?"
As the harp's melody echoed, a female voice filled with helplessness resounded,
"They pose no threat to you."
"Haven't you made up your mind yet?"
Alexander furrowed his brow, looking at the female figure that appeared with the music, his tone filled with dissatisfaction.
