"Let me ask again," Belial said, lightly tapping on the small box in his hand. "Do you really want to risk your life in the false hope that you can return to your world?"
A pin-drop silence engulfed the tent after Belial's question hung heavy in the air.
Gal, a mask of calm plastered on her face, watched Myne struggle with his inner turmoil. Her grip on his hand tightened, anxiety gnawing at her despite her best efforts to hide it. She knew too well the near-impossibility of escaping this dimension without Alban's consent. Now, a flicker of regret washed over her for readily agreeing to Myne's request. If he stubbornly threw himself into the jaws of death, she feared she wouldn't have a place to cry. After all, in her long life, Myne was the first partner she'd truly cherished, especially for his talents in the bed. That alone was enough to make her dote on him to death.
