Sven was lean, but his muscles were incredibly well-trained for his age. He possessed long limbs and remarkable flexibility for his forty-six years. His blue eyes observed as Felix slowly navigated through the crowd, approaching him. His golden hair didn't shine due to the darkness of the corner where he sat. When Felix approached, both of them had cold and indifferent eyes, analyzing each other. Felix noticed a wavering sword near Sven's chair, while Sven distinctly understood that the sword on Felix's belt was just a decoration; the real weapon was his fingers, which appeared coarser than his palm and other parts of his body.

Sven extended his hand to Felix in greeting. This was a rarity, as people didn't shake hands with each other because there was a chance that a future adversary would understand your technique and use it against you. Even oaths and ranks could play a role. Despite knowing this, Felix decided not to decline.

When Felix took Sven's hand, he felt how easily Sven's hand yielded to the pressure of his grip. In turn, Sven confirmed his hypothesis about Felix's weapon because his hand was exceptionally strong and immobile, and his fingertips were incredibly rigid.

"Sven Duvalier," a smile appeared on his face, and his eyes squinted, concealing a cold gaze.

"Felix, just Felix."

Felix decided not to mention his last name because of the Whispering Castle. The memories were unpleasant, and the surname vividly reminded him of those days.

After they introduced themselves, Sven gestured to the chair in front of him. Before sitting down, Felix picked up Bernard. He was surprised that Bernard hadn't changed at all since the "thirst for blood" incident. As soon as he realized that it wasn't her, he immediately recognized it as a "bloody aura," and the thought crossed Felix's mind: Sven was approximately at the 6th rank.

Felix had no intention of fighting Sven, but due to what had happened earlier, he was very cautious. He even held Bernard in a way that, in case of anything, he could use his right hand to strike or deflect an attack, while his left hand, farther from Sven, held Bernard. Sven was the same; even though he didn't take out his sword, his right hand was already on the sword's hilt. It was clear that he could either attack or defend against anything. Instead of a brawl, they chose to converse.