"People at the Imperial Residence are right in cursing me, I am indeed a little witch, a lunatic,"
"every kind of freak and antisocial being doesn't matter. Why should I endure?"
Why endure when Sean Bennett deserved to die a thousand deaths.
Wyatt Wright's grip on her hand tightened slightly; he was aware of her fury. She could be irrational, but he could not—he needed to pull her back from the cliff's edge.
"In this world, there's no such thing as a perfect crime. Every incident leaves a trace. We live in a society governed by law, protected by it, so we must abide by it. It's not that we don't seek justice, but we can't resort to methods that harm us as much as the enemy." Wyatt Wright's every word resonated with determination and unwavering firmness, only his gaze was tender and accommodating, "Rae, cherish your hands, keep them clean, maintain your bottom line, sleep peacefully, know what to do and what not to do."
