When Mr. Gwen walked to the outside of the tent, he didn't go in immediately.
"High Priest Toran, Mr. Grindelwald."
He called out with reverence.
At the same time, he bent over, lowered his head, showing a respectful manner.
No one noticed that his eyes were swirling, and his ears were perked up.
He already had a hypothesis.
But it needed confirmation.
Unfortunately, he was already old.
His hearing wasn't lost, but it wasn't as sharp as when he was young.
He couldn't hear more of what was happening inside the tent.
'For now, it's fine. In a few years...'
'Not wetting the bed might be the best outcome.'
'Time flies so fast.'
The old gentleman sighed.
"Please, come in."
Toran's voice sounded from inside the tent.
'The voice is steady, without any trembling, not anxious or sharp...'
Mr. Gwen speculated in his heart, and the thought became more certain.
When he entered the tent and saw Toran, whose joy was barely concealed, that thought was directly confirmed.
