Medea walked briskly through the woods.
Initially, her expression turned cold, merely intending to scare Aske a bit, including the tears that followed; she had cried on purpose for him to see.
After all, Enchanting Demons possess an almost instinctive racial Talent for gauging men's psyches and performing.
However, for some reason, once she was completely out of Aske's sight, she couldn't seem to stop her tears.
It was like the flood waters that had breached a small hole in the dam, gradually becoming uncontrollable—turning into a miserable, loud sobbing.
So, Aske, why didn't you come after me?
Arriving at a small lake in the forest, Medea, already hoarse from crying, stopped her sobbing, silently crouched down hugging her knees, not caring about the muddy ground below, and just like that, she sat down gloomily with her face buried in her knees.
So, what in the world am I crying for...
It's so embarrassing...
