Draven's face was so gloomy that no one dared to look directly at him when he came out of the ward.
He couldn't let go of the pent-up frustration in his heart.
This kind of emotion was exactly the same as every time he was punished or forced to do something he didn't want to do when he was young.
But if he refused to submit, he would be locked up in that pitch-black place for another night, causing him to be powerless. He had nowhere to escape.
The more times his mother spoke, the suffocating feeling got stronger, which overlapped with the darkness in his memory. He was afraid that if he stayed in the ward any longer, the uncontrollable rebellion in his bones would come back again.
That was why he quickened his pace, wishing to quickly escape from the place behind him, and stay far away from the people inside.
"Draven, why are you walking so fast? Are you really in a hurry to eat?"