The young girl walked up to the man with a cold look. The girl was wearing a white dress, with ice-colored strands of hair that shone coldly under the gray light. She had a pale, almost sickly complexion, and half-shrunk black eyes with a silence that was inappropriate for her age. With a purity that was rare in the world, she slightly raised her black and white eyes, and said to the man she had called Boss her whole life and the only man she called him this way: From today on, I am a member of Balian, and my name is Phil.