Something had been sprayed in the room. When the door opened, a cloying, greasy smell wafted out.
Willow Quincy's brow furrowed in discomfort, but he didn't ask a single question.
"Willow Quincy." Charlotte Shaw stood in the doorway with her hands behind her back, watching him with a humorless smile. "You should know I've never been a good-tempered person. In this world, no one can force me to do something I don't want to do."
"And what if the bargaining chip is Felix Preston?" Willow Quincy's gaze was fixed on her. "If he's the leverage, would you still be so resolute, still have your principles?"
"I wouldn't." Charlotte Shaw's reply was swift and decisive, a stark contrast to the cold, aloof woman from a moment ago.
"If the leverage is Felix Preston, then my principles become flexible. I can even force myself to like the things I hate."
"Heh…" Willow Quincy let out a bitter, sorrowful laugh. "So all your principles, all your indifference… it's all reserved just for me."
