She froze and then raised her eyes to look into the cabin.
A man was standing in the cabin with his back to the door, facing the window of the cabin, which was nailed with dozens of thin steel bars. He stood there quietly, looking out the window through the cracks in the steel bars.
A black pair of handmade Italian shoes came into her view, looking a little worn than they used to be with mud and dark red blood.
She looked up from the shoes and saw a pair of legs that were as straight and slender as ever and wrapped in black trousers. The black handmade shirt he wore had some wrinkles and seemed to have bloodstain on it, which was barely noticeable because of the color of the shirt.
But even in such a situation, the man just stood there quietly, still clean, handsome, noble, and indifferent.
An absolute dominant figure.
