Cracks in the Script
"Next time there's a good money-making opportunity, I'll call you, okay?"
Then, through the phone—
"Mua~"
The sound of a kiss brushed against his ear.
Somewhere beneath the house, Julian D'Aurelius lingered by a car, phone frozen against his face even though no one answered anymore. A low electric buzz came from above, where thin light flickered without warmth. On the front of a dark blue vehicle, his shape appeared - hair loose across his forehead, gaze more intense than normal. Silence sat heavier than before.
A single thump pushed through his chest. Sharp. Sudden.
So the plot didn't collapse by accident.
It was Bianca De Dominicis.
She had flipped the board.
Is the plot really falling apart again?
"Damn it, the difficulty of laying low just increased again."
Julian felt like spitting blood.
Why is it so hard for me to quietly earn some rewards?
"Hey, why aren't you talking?"
