"Little Frost, I think we might be in trouble."
The Handwasher gently flipped through the manual, his delicate brows unconsciously knitting together, a serious expression lingering on his fair face.
Without needing him to speak, the nearby girl with ice-blue long hair was also solemnly looking at the scattered documents and maps on the table—
As she extended her slender fingers to tuck the hair behind her ear, she wasn't smoothing her hair, but rather rhythmically tapping the record crystal pinned to her ear.
"Shut up."
She said, "Handwasher, that Sea Clan man didn't lie to us. Behind the White City incident, there's indeed a powerful organization manipulating everything. Do you see it? This organization called 'Butterfly' behind it all..."
Frost Sky spoke while stacking a few pages of documents together.
"No," the Handwasher reached out to stop her hand, "it's not called 'Butterfly.' Use the Dwarf script to reverse the letters and reassemble the word—"
