Claire Lowell never expected that Raina North would be bold enough to attack her, catching her completely off guard.
The edge of the document scraped her forehead, causing sharp, burning pain. Instinctively, Claire reached up, only to feel a wet sensation.
She raised her eyes to see a smear of crimson on her fingertips.
Claire panicked immediately. Frantically, she pulled a compact mirror from her handbag and stared at the wound on her brow bone. The thought of it leaving a scar drove her nearly insane.
"Bitch! You dared to hurt me! How dare you!" Claire recklessly charged at Raina, engaging in a fierce struggle.
Her sharp, long nails were like knives slashing at Raina’s face, with clear intent to tear it apart completely.
Daring to harm her face? Then she would ensure Raina lived with a ruined face forever, just to see if Nameless would still look at her without her beauty!
Claire’s eyes gleamed with a malevolent light, picturing Raina devastated.
However, she didn’t even touch a strand of Raina’s hair before she was kicked back. Read complete versıon only at 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲·𝗻𝗲𝘁
Claire fell to the ground, screamed in pain, and was suddenly unable to get up, looking utterly pathetic.
Raina felt no sympathy for her, striding over to Claire, grabbing her collar: "I’ll ask you again, do you realize the mistake you made causing such casualties?"
Claire was nearly choked by the collar, her face turned red, but she ignored Raina and looked at Elias Hawthorne instead, her eyes brimming with tears, pitifully: "Nameless..."
"Look at me!" Raina grasped Claire’s chin, turning her head: "Answer my question. My words aren’t hard to understand."
Forced to face Raina’s fierce expression, Claire snorted coldly. Despite being subdued and appearing pathetic, her demeanor was arrogant and impatient: "What do you want me to say? I have nothing to discuss with you, this little... this woman!"
Raina stared at Claire for a moment, then sneered: "Unrepentant."
She didn’t give Claire another opportunity to speak, dragging her to a computer.
Even with one hand operating the computer, she swiftly brought up a surveillance video on the screen.
It was footage from earlier at the night market.
A crowded mass of people screamed and jostled, soon someone fell.
And the terrified crowd behind surged forward, giving no chance for the fallen person to stand, innumerable feet trampled on his legs, back, arms, and head.
The person being trampled cried out for help, moaned, and screamed in pain, until no sound came out at all.
If not seen with one’s own eyes, it’s difficult to imagine a person could become such a state and then die.
As he died, there was no regret, no longing, no hatred, not even an expression.
How could there be an expression when he had turned into a mass of flesh? That would be too extravagant.
Men, women, young, old, even children, each died like that, leaving behind nothing but bloodied remains.
Claire was paralyzed with fear.
Though living in the chaotic Umbral Zone, her privileged status always showed her the clean, pleasant, warm things. She never experienced suffering, how could she withstand such gore?