In a large room, a man is seated on a king-sized chair as he coughs and spits out blood. His face isn't clear as he had his large rob on which reached the floor. He stared at the window at nothing in particular.
"Master," his right-hand man said as he knocked on the door.
"Come in," he answered.
"Master, permission to speak," the man who had just entered said.
"Go on," he replied with a hoarse voice as he coughed slightly.
"Master, your health isn't too good what should we do? It has been years, and still no sign of that woman's daughter should we act?" His right-hand man spoke worriedly.
"No, Is that what you came to say? Worry about yourself first," the Master said.
"I'm sorry, I've come to report that the Young Master is back," he said excitedly with a smile.