In the parlor of the Governor's Mansion on Hope Island, Charles slightly furrowed his brows as he gazed at the curled-up old woman in front of him.
Her face covered in blue tattoos made her look very eerie, but compared to her appearance, her actions were even more unsettling.
Tuba, with a vacant expression, sat dully opposite her, saliva dripping long from the corner of his mouth, unbothered as she inserted a long needle into the crevices of her own fingernails.
Putrid, blue smoke billowed from the old woman's mouth, slowly entwining around Tuba, whose blood fell to the ground, visibly darkening at a discernible pace.
Sitting beside Charles, the bandaged man leaned towards him and whispered something, his green postman's uniform freshly donned again, while the bandages on his face were removed once more.
Hearing the whisper from the bandaged man, Charles occasionally nodded with a frown between his brows.