"Dylan? There is no Dylan in my class. Who are you talking about?"
'What?'
Angeal looked at the seat beside her. Her eyes widened more when she realized that there was no bag beside her, indicating that this Dylan may not have brought anything other than the notebook and pen that he had with him.
She then looked at her father once more, almost mumbling so that only he could hear.
"A while ago, there was a guy sitting beside me—brainstorming with me about the poem. His name is Dylan and he gave me his notes. He said he went to the comfort room."
Professor Leon's eyebrows creased together. He blankly stared at the empty seat beside his daughter for a moment before returning his gaze on her.
"Are you sure there was someone beside you earlier?" he asked, his daughter nodding once to answer his question. "Because while I was walking, I did not notice anyone beside you," he added, Angeal's lips turning into a tight line.
