Fated love: the unwanted bride-Chapter 2125: That Bastard! Bastard!

Charles Mcintosh didn’t eat much; he couldn’t really bring himself to eat. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes seemed to conceal countless hidden thoughts.

After a long while, he stood up, his voice hoarse: "I’m going out for a smoke."

Charles pushed open the door and walked out; his figure was tall and desolate, with an indescribable loneliness.

Jasmine Yale stared at his back for a long time.

"Master, when did Mr. Mcintosh return?" Jasmine asked softly.

"Probably during the night. When I came for boxing practice in the morning, it was still dark, and he was just sitting there on the ground, silent, only smoking without caring if the ground was cold or not." The old man shook his head and sighed, "They’ve all grown up and have their own concerns now."

"Is Little Lilac still missing?"

"Yes, Charles has almost searched all of Lonton but couldn’t find her." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Is Mr. Mcintosh still leaving?"

"He’s leaving. He said he would leave after a while and didn’t want to say much to me. I just kept him company while he smoked." The old man reminisced, "When he was a boy, he was the closest to me among all. Warmer than Sylvan Cheney, willing to talk to me about his thoughts. Now, he doesn’t want to say anything at all."

The old man took a sip of hot tea, his eyes cloudy with a faint glow.

"Between Little Lilac and Mr. Mcintosh... what kind of conflict did they have?" Jasmine asked.

The old man suddenly showed a pained expression, even with an agonizing gritting of teeth: "If you really want to point fingers, the fault lies with me. Many years ago, why did I accept such a defiant, inhumane disciple!"

Jasmine’s heart trembled. She had never heard anyone mention this before.

In the past, she had asked Sylvan Cheney, but he always used the excuse of not meddling in others’ private lives and never told her.

She always felt the conflict between Lilac Serval and Charles Mcintosh wouldn’t just be due to Lilac’s love for drinking and visiting nightclubs, as those habits can be changed. But some things, buried deep in memory or ingrained in one’s essence, are hard to change.

"Better not to mention it, better not to mention it." The old man was beside himself with anguish, his eyes bloodshot with redness, "Markie Usama, that beast! Beast!"

His fists pounded the table several times, the sound echoing coldly in the empty room.

Jasmine’s heart also trembled.

Markie Usama? This name, she was hearing for the first time.

Since the old man didn’t want to talk, she felt it was inappropriate to ask further.

She was an outsider.

She knew nothing about the past of the training ground.

The air fell silent again; outside, the sound of flowing rain could be heard, as if the rain had intensified.

Jasmine poured several rounds of tea for the old man. In his eyes, she saw anger, sternness, pain, and a hint of helplessness.

Not long after, perhaps after finishing a cigarette, Charles Mcintosh came back in.

He picked up the coat from the rack and put it on.

This time, Jasmine looked at him carefully.

In just a few months, he seemed to have turned into a different person, extremely gaunt, as if he had aged five years.

Charles took an umbrella and stood at the door, glancing at them quietly, "I must take my leave."

"Charles, won’t you stay a while longer with Master?" The old man’s eyes were filled with cloudy emotions.

"I’ll keep you company next time I have the chance." Charles replied indifferently, his face devoid of expression, "Jasmine, if you need anything, contact Frederick Owen, he’s reliable."

After saying that, without waiting for anyone to speak, he turned around, opened the door, held the umbrella up, stepped out with his long legs, and walked into the rain.

His steps were determined, yet lacked composure.