No Substitutes for the Bigshots' Dream Girl Anymore!-Chapter 96: Wounded

The next second, the boy lashes out with his hand. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

In a flash, the bowl of hot soup was overturned onto the ground. The porcelain spoon from the bowl also crashed onto the floor.

The shattering sound was crisp. Fragments of porcelain were scattered all over the place.

The boy was strong, and didn’t hold back his strength at all.

In the air saturated with the smell of disinfectant, a faint whimper from the girl was heard, faint as if a kitten was calling out. Her thick, black hair unraveled, spilling out like ink in a landscape painting.

Some grazed the boy’s wrist, provoking an uncomfortable itch and a subtle sting, as if he’d inadvertently cut his fingertip on a piece of paper.

At first, it’s a numbing itch. Afterwards, it’s a subtle pain.

Hannah was shoved to the ground, the scattered soup and shards seemed to accurately depict her present state.

Humiliated and subservient.

The nurse outside the door hearing the commotion hurriedly entered the room. Initially suspecting something happened to the boy on the bed, she was surprised to see the girl collapsed on the floor.

She rushed over to help her up, "What happened? Are you alright, miss?"

Hannah kept her head low, hiding her expression. She just shook her head, her voice choked but tried to sound calm, "I’m fine."

The boy on the bed kept his eyes cold, watching the girl on the ground without a hint of guilt.

The strange satisfaction and pleasure surged within him once again.

"Oh, you’ve got a cut!" The nurse looking at the girl’s blood-stained palm exclaimed. "Don’t move. I’m getting medicine for you."

Having said so, the nurse dashed out of the ward.

Not until her steps had faded away did Louis pay attention to Hannah’s wound.

The girl continued to sit on the ground, motionless and silent like a puppet, her head down, her hair scattered hiding her beautiful face.

She lifted her hand, palm upward, where her originally soft and fair palm was already covered in fresh blood. A shard the size of a fingernail was lodged in her wound.

The girl looked at it, her fingertips involuntarily flexing. Unfazed by the pain, the wound gaped wider and blood poured out again.

The Golden Lotus in her mind was stunned by what she was seeing. So were these users in the live room.

[Master...Are you okay?]

Hannah didn’t answer, as if she’d completely sunk into the situation.

She subconsciously clenched her palm, and the blood dripped onto the floor. The blood was viscous and spread out on impact, looking like a flower blooming.

Red plum blossoms on the residual snow.

Signaling the end of a season.

The girl did not cry, nor did she make a scene, but upon closer inspection, her shoulders were slightly shaking.

Louis sat on the bed feeling inexplicably uncomfortable. An apology was stuck in his throat, a stubborn refusal to let it out.

No, it would never be said in whole life.

How could he possibly apologize to Hannah Winter?

He never would.

The boy thought to himself, and at that moment, he caught a glimpse of pair of misty eyes. Those eyes were like the most brilliant shade of red at sunset, carrying an indescribable charm with her tearful glimmer.

In a moment, her beautiful face was awash with dew of the morning, tear drops falling onto the human world.

With the scene before him painting-like, Louis held his breath for a moment. An overwhelming sense of pity flooded his heart. He wanted to pull her into his arms, wipe away her tears and comfort her gently.

His hand, hidden beneath the thin quilt, gripped tightly. Louis forced himself to cool down and turned his head away.

The next second, a soft sobbing sound came.