The cool breeze was blowing again, and those clear eyes seemed to plunge her into boundless darkness.
The stark contrast of the black and white eyes clearly reflected the moon and stars, and a deathly pale, twisted face.
Second Turner wanted to scream, but his voice was stuck in his throat.
Because a man had appeared behind Hannah.
Enshrouded in darkness, his face was indiscernible, yet he emanated an extreme sense of danger and oppression.
Like dark clouds rolling toward the shore, blocking out the sun, leaving no sign of life.
Second Turner's body trembled as if he were truly seeing a ghost, his gaze fixed behind Hannah, "He, he, he..."
He raised his hand to point, but Hannah slapped it with a branch.
As if oblivious, Hannah tapped Second Turner's face with the branch, her voice sweet, "Apologize."
"Apologize to me, not to him."
Second Turner's lips turned pale as he shivered, "I'm... I'm sorry."
The alley was still very quiet.