Roger instinctively wanted to lift his head, but in the next instant, he forcefully suppressed his body's natural reaction.
Because the voice did not arise next to his ear, but rather emerged directly in his mind.
He pretended as if nothing were amiss and shifted his gaze, sweeping his eyes over the woman wearing the silver mask.
"Impressive control, although he's a young man, he's quite interesting."
Roger didn't speak; he emptied his mind to prevent any of his thoughts from being captured by the woman opposite him.
"What a pity..."
The woman chuckled lightly and then no further sound came.
Just then, Roger noticed the white candle on the table burn down to the end, and Dickinson cleared his throat.
"A pleasant gathering—I must take my leave now, looking forward to our next meeting."
"Crackle!"
The last flicker of light went out, and the scene before his eyes gradually vanished. Roger turned his head to look at the woman with the silver-white mask.
