The man in her arms was pale without a trace of blood, and his black hair turned into white snow... The color of the living man faded away little by little, as if he was going to disappear from this world...
Dylan Mo's hands were shaking. If he couldn't feel the slight beating in the chest of the person in his arms, he would have thought that this person was dead.
His lips moved, and he let out a suppressed and painful cry: "Master..."
sorry...
You have never hurt me, but I was self-righteous and blinded by the false reality, and dominated by selfish possessiveness... and eventually made irreparable mistakes.
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