[Does she know that the thought goes through his mind, a memory of the intimacy they had shared? Perhaps she had reveled in it far more than he, but... oh, her tongue still remembers the taste of him. His lips... the scent of their sex in the air... the sweat upon his skin... the lingering traces of his seed...

The bottle is nothing in comparison. How sad.]

It does not sound strange to me at all.

[Because she could「see」it on him, with those eyes that were blacker than the darkest black man could make. Layers upon layers of Time, the influence and stains of other Links upon his flesh like lingering handprints on his body. That she enjoys leisurely examining with her eyes as part of her fortune telling.]

Twenty three, then.

[He might have seem confused as to what number he should go with, but she decides for him quite easily, with no apparent need for debate. He was twenty-three years old. Past lives or not. Just how Kiyoami's descendant, the boy in which his soul was finally reborn, was still only fourteen years old, whether he had a centuries-old demon's soul inside him or not. If they had not been bound together by blood...

But it isn't quite blood she sees binding Link. The images are faint and abstract, that is why she never claimed to be a prophet, everything open to interpretation. Like how she murmurs next,]

Are the shackles heavy... ? The ones that bind you to that fate.