The broken ambiguity

When they left the Courtyard House, it was quite dark.

Arnold Johnson held her hand all the way, her cold little hand in his warm and dry one seemed very harmonious. Victoria Garcia thought that the fruit wine she had just drunk must not be as non-intoxicating as the boss had claimed; otherwise, she wouldn't have such an illusion.

Next time, it would be better not to touch alcohol at all.

The alley was dimly lit, but Arnold still managed to see her expression. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips shiny and red like petals, and her eyes covered with a smoky haze, extremely tempting and driving people to crime.

Arnold never thought his self-control could be so poor.

His action to commit the crime was even faster than the thought of committing it.