"Really?" The smile flickered in Damien's eyes.
He moved his body, sat next to Kendall again, and asked seriously, "What kind of competition is 'Autumn Cup "?"
"You can also write novels?" Damien raised his eyebrows, seemingly inadvertently, and then moved closer and sat down.
"A little bit." Kendall opened the distance again.
Killers often have to pretend to be someone else, and then act accordingly and say what they should say based on their identity and background.
She's a pretty good storyteller too – but why is Damien sitting here. again!
"Then, what kind of novel are you going to write?" Damien deliberately whispered in her ear.
The hot and humid breath sprayed on the sensitive area behind Kendall's ears, and she was like a kitten whose hair was blown up, a conditioned reflex bounced and was about to stay away.
But she didn't know that she had already reached the edge of the sofa, and she fell down!
