```
The dim light cast a dark red sheen on the bloodstain on the ground.
The air was filled with a foul, fishy smell, and she didn't dare to imagine what identity Schreyer had to brazenly hurt someone in front of the American side.
Or perhaps, in America, Schreyer's identity indeed afforded him that power.
The young girl's slightly thin white dress was soaking wet, and her trembling hands clenched the hem, unsure whether to move forward or back, a single glance from the man enough to root her to the spot, immobile.
She was going to be scolded, wasn't she?
The deep night was cold, and the street seemed deserted, no cars, no people passing through.
With an empty feeling, the man's strong stature stood unmovin,g making her feel as if it were the dead city at the end of the world.
She should have thought carefully about what to do next, but her heart pounded fiercely, and she had no idea which step to take first, how to greet him, how to say thank you.
