I looked at him calmly, without the slightest ripple in my heart.
The calmer I was, the angrier he became.
Julian suddenly stood up and reached straight for the gauze on my forehead, his voice dripping with venom:
“I want to see whether you’re actually injured, or just pretending again to win pity!”
He yanked the gauze off in one violent motion.
“Tss!”
It felt like a knife slicing open my forehead.
The barely formed scab was torn apart, and blood burst out instantly, running down my cheek.
Warm.
Bright.
Stinging.
The dining room went terrifyingly silent.
And I… merely lifted my hand to press against my bleeding forehead and slowly turned to look at Julian.
His expression shifted in seconds—from smug, to dismissive, to shocked, to panicked, and finally to pale.
I stared at him
