The red liquid continuously flow from his mother's mouth, like beautiful but also dreadful jewel-like fluid that gleamed when it reached the ground. Her beautiful face now was drenched with both blood and an extremely frightening expression twisted her face muscle in pain.
Her fingernails grew sharper and thicker and the moment she placed one hand on the glass table, trying to push herself from the chair, the glass surface crack, at the same time Jung Hwa, who had been watching the transformation that happened in a breath also felt his heart crack.
"H...Hwa..." came his mother's voice who was crawling her way toward him, staggering each steps like a drunk person but she wasn't drunk from alcohol— it was the pain.
"Mother," whispered Jung Hwa, his voice was utterly low, coming from the back of his throat as he had to push the word from his mouth with much difficulty.
