Borrowing a Knife to Kill
"It's not fear; I'm just worried that failing the mission will ruin Steffan's plans," White Ghost said, patting his chest, though his voice was somewhat shaky.
The room fell silent for a brief moment.
The overhead light cast long shadows across the floor, and the cool air from the air conditioner hummed softly in the background. Despite his attempt to appear confident, the unease in White Ghost's eyes was impossible to hide.
After all, there was a fine line between courage and recklessness.
Attacking an enemy stronger than oneself could be called bravery, but it could also be called foolishness.
White Ghost knew exactly where Julian D'Aurelius stood.
That man was not someone who could be measured using common sense.
The memory of those calm golden eyes still lingered in his mind like an invisible weight pressing against his chest.
Black Ghost stared at his younger brother for several seconds.
Then he suddenly let out a sigh.
