Smoke whirled around his face, his sharply contoured face obscured by the mist, indiscernible in expression.
Charles Mcintosh knew, there were things that couldn't be reclaimed, just as there were people, once released, could never turn back.
After all, he had let down Lilac Serval.
He closed his eyes, taking a drag of his cigarette.
Suddenly, the image of the training grounds in Lonton surfaced in his mind, a slender girl standing by his side.
The girl's eyes were bright and spirited, her pure face showcased simplicity and innocence.
That was the adolescent Lilac Serval.
Beautiful like a clear mirror, untainted, she resembled a lotus flower, standing tall and graceful.
Charles Mcintosh rubbed his brow, taking another drag of his cigarette.
The smoke enveloped his somber expression, a picture of sheer exhaustion.
...
Cheney Residence, noon.
After lunch, Jasmine Yale sat side by side with Sylvan Cheney on the sofa.
