"Tell me again why we are here, Vivian?"
A plain-looking middle-aged man with an unkempt beard asked the question with a tired, exasperated sigh.
He wore simple pants, a black tunic, and a grey robe thrown loosely over his shoulders—hardly the attire one would expect from someone attending a grand event.
A long scar ran down the length of his left eye, and his dull brown eyes had the infamous dead fish look, like someone who hadn't slept properly in weeks.
His black hair was just as messy as his beard, giving him a rather rough and unusual appearance.
Walking a few steps ahead of him was the woman he had addressed.
Vivian looked just as plain.
She wore a short skirt, sturdy boots, a white blouse, and a robe similar to Cain's. Her black hair hung naturally without any decoration, and her brown eyes were equally unremarkable.
The only thing about her that drew attention was her curvy figure.
