The chilling, frost-like aura emanating from Devy once again permeated the private room, instantly creating an atmosphere of suffocating tension. Every single person present instinctively held their breath, as though the very air had become too heavy to inhale, as if the mere act of breathing would cause the silent pressure to erupt into a battle at any given moment.
The faintest noises—such as the clinking of spoons against porcelain and the gentle hum of the air conditioner—disappeared entirely, replaced by a silence so oppressive it weighed on the skin.
Devy was already standing rather close, directly facing Al. Her pair of calm, abyss-like eyes—so dark and deep they resembled an endless ocean at midnight—fixed upon the young man.
