ZYLITH.
“You don’t remember him?” Reuben asked me with incredulity, his pretty brows, a little taut.
I on the other hand, frowned in confusion. Was I supposed to know this man?
From my baffled expression, Reuben finally confirmed that I was not familiar with this man at all. Rather, I did not remember him, and he in turn, had a complicated expression on now.
“....You don’t remember.” It was not a question, but a verse of confirmation, as if he had just discovered that I did not remember the very person who he thought would be the villain of my nightmares, and hence, there was a look of disbelief in his deep green eyes.
“Who is he?” I couldn’t help but ask.
A moment of silence later, he finally replied, “He is the son of Countess Regina Wroth.” Still looking a bit incredulous in the p
