At the very front of the hall is a huge golden seat on which S is sitting. The guards respectfully retreated after leaving Avery, and there were only two of them left in the hall.
S lowered his head.
His jet-black hair is exactly the length of his shoulders, and the tips of his hair are uneven and a little messy, with a few strands of white interspersed in it, and the whole person reveals a decadent and gloomy feeling. Avery was locked by the handcuffs and fetters, and couldn’t move when sitting on the ground. S ignored her words, she could only sit like this foolishly.
She let out a long sigh of relief because her hands were a little sore. S slowly raised her head from the golden chair, seeming to find her restlessness: “Want to escape?”
“With this thing, I can’t escape, right?” Avery raised his hand and shook it, not afraid, but rather casual. If it weren’t for the handcuffs and shackles that bound her, she looked like she was resting comfortably. It is precisely because of this that this posture makes S, who is in a bad mood, even more unhappy. If he is unhappy, how can he make this woman happy.
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