"Yes... On the night before the imminent victory, I can't share this joy with my friend. I'll always remember you were my first servant who awakened me from my slumber."
Miranda sneered, pressing the sharp dinner knife against her neck.
"Your so-called victory will not happen."
White Mist watched her and chuckled softly.
"That's not necessarily true."
Miranda's pupils shrank slightly, and her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What do you mean?"
The eerily omnipresent voice continued.
"You are a part of the plan, one of the pieces on the chessboard. It was supposed to be you who fulfills the destiny, but it doesn't have to be you."
A hint of madness crept into Miranda's eyes as she roared almost hysterically.
"Then go find that person! I have nothing to do with all this anymore!"
