Delphine was tightly held in his arms, completely devoid of strength to struggle. She turned her head away, staring into the void, her voice hoarse beyond recognition, her swollen, tear-stained eyes blurry and indistinct.
"Ignatius Leclair, have you fallen in love with me?" She sneered coldly, her tone devoid of warmth.
The man's tall figure trembled slightly but remained silent.
Delphine rasped mockingly and hoarsely, "If not, then why are you so twisted? I've already told you, 'no!' Are you sick? If you're sick, just go get treatment!"
Ignatius Leclair's thin lips pressed tightly together; perhaps he really was sick.
Without saying a word, the man lifted her and carried her to the bathroom.
