Fujiwara Ize kissed her fiercely, his hands tightly encircling her waist, wanting to meld her into his own body.
Mo Ran frowned in disgust, struggling desperately. Their teeth clashed incessantly, and it was unclear whose lips had been bitten, as a taste of blood spread between their mouths.
She struggled until her whole body was weak, but Mo Ran did not give up.
Seeing her like this, Fujiwara Ize finally let her go.
She raised her wrist, wanting to slap him, but he easily caught her hand.
The man's lips were swollen and sensuous, his eyes deep, which made Mo Ran feel even more repulsed.
"I warn you, don't touch me a second time! Your touch makes me feel sick!"
"Is that so? Then I'll make you feel sick again." After saying this, he was about to close in on her once more.
As he was about to reach her, his movement suddenly halted.
Mo Ran had a sharpened chopstick in her hand, pointed at her own throat.
