It was not until the early hours of the next day that Saphen's condition finally stabilized. Cain sat by the hospital bed. The neat outfit on his body was now wrinkled and disheveled, and the hair that had been carefully styled had been messed into chaos by his own hands.
Saphen lay on the hospital bed, his face pale as paper, his brows slightly furrowed. Every breath seemed heavy. There was none of his usual slyness left. He looked so weak it felt as though he could leave at any moment.
No. How could that be possible? Cain recalled what the doctor had said. There was nothing wrong with Saphen's body. Coughing up blood might only have been due to the weather, or perhaps because his mood had not been good...
His mood hadn't been good... Thinking of this, Cain clenched his fists.
He stood up and went into the bathroom. Maybe washing his face would help him calm down. The chaotic thoughts in his mind felt ready to explode at any moment.
