He thoughtfully arranged the bedding so that Christine could lie comfortably.
How does this angle harm the statue?
Should he mimic the Brussels boy and urinate fiercely on it?
Although it seemed absurd, as long as it could make Christine happy, he was willing to do anything.
Christine pressed her hand against the soft bedding, her head always lowered, afraid that even a slight raise would reveal her flushed face.
"Is this okay here?"
"Okay for what?" Roland was a bit surprised.
"For doing what lovers love to do most." Christine's voice was gentle yet filled with lethal intent.
Roland: "..."
He still underestimated a woman's vengeful heart, and even more so, how deeply Christine had been hurt.
He had to admit, Christine's revenge was far more ruthless than any methods he had imagined.
The once Saintess, the purest believer, becoming one with the enemy of Light atop the Goddess statue.
Blood, sweat, and tears mingled, dripping onto the head of the Goddess statue.
