Hard to Believe Even the Ghosts

Tristan thought he would capture Cynthia's attention and had already prepared responses in his mind. To his surprise, Cynthia chose to remain silent. "Remember to eat on time."

"In the next few days, I'll be very busy. Maybe I won't be able to see your messages. Don't worry; I'll be home as soon as possible."

"Okay." Cynthia clutched the blanket, covering half of her face, leaving only a pair of distinct black and white almond eyes.

"Good night."

"Good night."

After hanging up the call, Cynthia lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She could be sure that the cry for mercy just now wasn't her imagination. However, selfishly, even if Tristan's methods were ruthless, it must be because the other party made an unforgivable mistake.

That night, Cynthia had a dream. She went back to the night of gunfire and chaos five years ago, surrounded by the chaotic cries of people and a thick smell of blood in the air. Yet, she was enveloped by a warm chest.