For a moment, silence hung between us. Then he smiled, slow and elegant, like a gentleman caught in a teasing game but heavier simultaneously. His eyes were darker, betraying that soft smile on his face.
"Fourteen." He simply and innocently said, for a man who was calling the number of people he had killed.
"Fourteen?!" I asked, a bit stunned.
"Fourteen," he repeated, as casually as if he were confessing how many glasses of wine he'd had. "I did a little pruning here and there, but I was able to keep my promise, wasn't I?"
That... was quite low compared to his previous records. Then why were his eyes so muddied again?
Or... was he lying to me?
I looked into his eyes, trying to search for the truth, but it didn't look like he was lying.
Then... how to explain the muddiness?
"Is something wrong, Jo-Pil?" he asked, slithering towards my side like a snake, and I turned to look at his emerald eyes.
"Have you been doing anything unusual this period?" I asked him.
