——Spirit Medium.
Gina felt her heart and lungs come to a sudden stop, a chill rushing up her spine, her back drenched in cold sweat; without another word, she turned and moved away.
No wonder no one interacted with her, no one wanted to stay with a freak who had been talking to the souls of the dead since childhood.
Snap.
Yawen closed her combat manual, rechecked her weapons, and sat upright in the cabin seat, waiting quietly. A burst of turbulence made the transport plane tremble slightly, and the ash-filled small bottle on Yawen's chest swayed—then, in the next moment, the apparition of a four- or five-year-old girl slowly appeared beside her.
'You clearly didn't want to join the battle, so why are you here?'
"Desca?"
Yawen turned her head in surprise. In her eyes, the girl's black hair hung to the floor, leaning lazily against the wall; her thin frame and her gold-green eyes glanced at Yawen:
'What? Shocked, are you?'
