"I originally wanted to admire you for a while longer so that you could leave safely in your sleep. Unfortunately, I didn't expect you to wake up so early.”
"Even the Dream Fragrance is useless against you. As expected of inheriting that woman's bloodline?”
Seeing Liz open her eyes, a horrified expression appeared on the young girl's face.
As he sat by the bed, Count Sisre placed the thing in his hand on his cheek and took a deep breath.
In the darkness, Liz saw that it was the white handkerchief she had thrown on the ground. The red bloodstain in the middle of the handkerchief was right at the tip of her father's nose.
Like an asthma patient, after taking a few deep breaths, the infatuated look on Count Sisre's face gradually faded.
The difference between slaughter and surgery was precision, and the difference between a villain and cannon fodder was how much they talked.
