"Sigh... Ogre," Lange also let out a sigh.
After a mont of silence, he began to speak about his own background: "Although, Ogre, my birth was much better than yours, I never felt any love in my family. My birth was an accident; I'm the son of a knight and a maid."
As he spoke, Lange suddenly chuckled twice, "It's funny, I've never actually seen my so-called father. If it weren't for discovering that I had the qualities of a knight, I doubt he would have ever acknowledged as his son..."
Ogre didn't ask about Lange's mother.
A maid whose na isn't ntioned—her fate is self-explanatory.
"Ogre, I once considered my mother, whom I barely t, a disgrace. But later, I gradually realized that the bloodline I should truly be ashad of is my father's. No matter how others see him as great, in my eyes, he's just scum!"
But as Lange spoke to this point, he suddenly smiled bitterly, "Yet I have to admit, it's because of this scum that I survived and beca a knight..."
"Lange..." Ogre took the initiative to comfort him, "We can't choose our birth. All we can do is strive to beco stronger—strong enough to break free from predetermined fate."
Perhaps no one can truly fight against fate.
But there are always those who will never submit to it.
"Maybe that's where you and I truly differ, Ogre—you're a natural-born strongman," Lange said with a slight smile, "And I... if I hadn't t the young master, I might have been trapped for a long ti."
"Foucault... what did he say to you?" Ogre seed to understand why Lange, who wore arrogance as a mask, would pledge loyalty to soone his own age like Foucault.
"The first ti I t the young master, he was holding a book... Later, when we t again, he still had that book in his hands. He pulled aside and, in a very childish voice, told word by word about the stories in the book and his own ideals. I can't quite rember the specifics."
Recalling the past, Lange's face showed a sincere smile, "But I still rember one thing he said to ."
"A king is not great because of his bloodline, and a servant is not lowly because of his. This is unreasonable. A person's greatness should not lie in their bloodline, but in their actions and thoughts."
Lange mimicked Foucault's tone as he recounted the past.
"Well, your young master seems to have read so interesting books..."
Ogre recalled what he did as a child.
Apart from bullying magic rabbits, shooting birds, and occasionally catching fish, there wasn't much else...
As for the happiest tis, those were probably the monts spent listening to his father tell stories.
His father used stories to entice him, which eventually led him to learn those difficult and obscure human words...
So people show extraordinary qualities from a young age. Ogre didn't think he was one of those people, but he believed—Foucault probably was.
"I think the young master understood it. Anyway, from that mont on, I decided to be his knight, to follow him—until he fulfills his ideals," Lange said, his eyes growing more determined with every word.
"Having a goal is good sotis," Ogre smiled, "That's what my father told . He said—having a goal in life already puts you ahead of many."
"Hahaha, I don't understand much, I just feel that the young master is worth following. I can sense that he's different," Lange said, laughing as he scratched the back of his head.
"Lange, Ogre! Why did you guys wander so far?"
Just then, Foucault erged from the Professional Association and waved at them.
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