Warm electronic fireplace in front of the clear floor-to-ceiling window.
The smiling butler pulls out a bloodstained dagger from the struggling man's neck.
Then he lets go, leaving the man convulsing and struggling on the ground like a dehydrated fish.
He picks up a clean white hot towel nearby and slowly wipes off the blood on his hands.
Then he flips through his bracelet, a slight smile curling the corners of his mouth as he looks at the message on it.
156 North Twelfth Street.
——
"Hahaha, what are you talking about?"
In the snowy night, Lokte turns back, watching He Ao's calm gaze and the bloodstained expressionless cheeks, he says with a slightly embarrassed smile, "I'm fine right now, aren't I? Still very spirited, what do you mean I'm about to die?"
He raises his hand, although with some difficulty, he still normally swings his arm, then he laughs nervously,
