The wind blew cold in the night, leaving Butchie still standing in the same place with no one around her. Quite a few card artisans were moving in her direction, and she could clearly hear their high-speed whistling.
The air was filled with the heavy smell of dust and smoke left behind from the recent explosion. If it weren't for that smell reminding her, she would surely have wondered whether what had just happened was a dream.
What about that person?
Butchie still didn't understand what had happened and why he had suddenly chosen to leave at the last moment. His hand had already been at her throat. He had only needed to twist it slightly, and she would have be dead like that colleague of hers, whose neck had been crushed. When they examined her dead colleague's wounds, the strength of the killer's hands was stunning.
