Theodore's fingers suddenly exerted force, almost pulling out strands of Roy's hair.
He stared at her with a capricious expression, his cheek muscles twitching and his breath slightly hurried. His instincts urged him to hurt her, to push her away, yet his chaotic emotions insisted on focusing on her pale face and grotesque wounds.
In the end, he just let her go, allowing the damp strands of hair to slip through his fingers.
"I am very disappointed."
He said, "I originally thought you had enough rationality to judge your current situation, to pursue advantages and avoid harm, to protect yourself. But your current performance is no different from that of a foolish lunatic."
Roy seemed not to hear this evaluation and picked up the bandages in the bamboo basket to dress her wounds by herself. Because no one helped, she wrapped them messily, sweat seeping from her forehead.
Theodore was still watching her.
