Chapter 232: Tales of the Michael Aroa

Black hair that reached up to her waist, which was completely straight compared to my mother's curly hair. And dark eyes that filled the entire socket, holding the power of darkness within them. All this over the pearl white cute face of a girl who looked no more than 20. 

She was wearing the same widow black dress, the same dress that people wear at a funeral, though accordingly she looked like a death reaper herself.

"Is he the one?" She asked as she looked around and the others nodded. Meanwhile, I…

"Oo! A cutie! Are you the leader of this cult?" was in a jolly mood for some reason. I mean, I was getting to meet 'my' people left and right. Obviously, I was happy.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Though it didn't seem like the others took my happy mood so well. I could hear someone shaking behind me while Angela was just keenly observing me.