"Oh dear, it's already gone."
...Fu Tailan hadn't seen many truly old people, but he thought, 'A human face, no matter how old, could never look like this.'
He didn't even dare let his gaze fall directly on that ancient face. He suspected his eyes would get trapped in the folds of skin, unable to pull free, and eventually be ground to pieces.
Staring for a few more seconds would probably cause his own eyeballs to crawl with a dense web of blood vessels, mirroring the wrinkles.
"That's right, I've always been the one in charge of the gate key. But since last week, I just can't find it…"
Last week—the same time the Bronk brothers returned to Blackmoor City with the key.
"Sigh, when you get old, your memory just isn't what it used to be. Can you do an old man a favor? If you find the key, bring it to me…"
The resident spoke, raising a hand to peel back the skin on his cheek, revealing the half of his mouth it had been covering.
