Vergil was beside himself.
He had known for as long as he could think that his sister was a rambunctious sort. She had become even more of a troublemaker after she started following that bitch Saarfi around.
But never in a million years did he think that this nightmare would be possible.
His father was dead. His twin was framed for his murder.
And the only person who seemed more upset about the situation around them was the very large Andros.
There were indents in his brother's palms from where he'd pressed his nails into his hands. His jaw had been clenched so tightly for so long that it was a miracle that he hadn't cracked anything.
The rest of their siblings still seemed to be wrapping their heads around everything. Their chatter was unbearably idiotic.
"Is this really happening…?"
"T-They said father was dead… do you think..?"
"No. No way. Father would never get killed by that little weakling."
Andros finally couldn't take the chatter anymore.
