"I've told you I don't want to drink with you. How many times must I repeat myself?" Lilac Serval's face turned grim.
Repeating herself was not her forte, she regarded it as politeness and civility to say it once.
"This lady, so hot-tempered. How about a game? See, I have a glass of wine, you have one too. We roll the dice; whoever loses takes a sip. How about that?"
Lilac Serval sneered coldly, disdainful.
A childish game.
"Sister Serval, you should leave. I can handle this." Suddenly, a voice called out.
Lilac Serval glanced at the voice's source with a sympathetic look, shaking her head: "Let's move to another table, somewhere quieter."
"Alright."
Little 11 couldn't stand them harassing Lilac Serval. Upon hearing Lilac Serval's command, he immediately prepared to stand up from the couch.
But before he could straighten his legs, two towering men held him down, ready to strike.
