Super Rich: I Can Hear Women's Inner Voices - Chapter 62: Any Evidence?

“Here you go, this is your wage for the week.”After passing over a small pouch, the woman with her legs crossed behind the desk casually made a 'Check' in a notebook and then, without looking up, waved her hand to dismiss him and said:“Remember to file your taxes... Next!”“Wait a minute!”After pouring out the coins from the pouch and looking at the eight large and one small, totaling nine filthy coins in his palm, Leon couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock, almost wanting to pounce on her and fight to the death right there and then.“Damn it! I just repelled the evil god who was trying to erode the world this Tuesday! You bastard even wants to deduct the salary of the savior?”

Never had the Radcliffe family expected their son-in-law, a loser in their eyes, to be the hidden Dragon Lord who had lived for myriads of years...

Molitia Clemence was born sickly.

She forgot to cover herself with a blanket and caught a cold. She woke up next to her husband after 10 days just because of a slight cold.

Molitia barely survived between the thin threads of life and death. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that her husband was somehow acting differently than usual…?!

***

“Have you eaten?” (Husband)

“Yes.” (Molitia)

“This is the belly of a person who ate?” (Husband)

He frowned as he stroked her flat lower abdomen. He held her wrist carefully, as if it would break. His voice rose.

“Why is your wrist so thin? Are you even human?” (Husband)

“That’s…” (Molitia)

“Butler!” (Husband)

The butler rushed to his angry voice, fidgeting with his wrists.

“Get me food for my wife to eat. Something that will help her stay healthy. Anything is fine.” (Husband)

Molitia’s mouth opened at her husband’s words, but no sound came out. ‘I just had a meal?’

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.