Sarah Sullivan's eyes narrowed slightly.
This man in front of her was a bona fide wolf in sheep's clothing, the walking definition of a hypocrite, no dispute about that.
And yet, he's a "Dean of Moral Education"? Now that's the pinnacle of irony and black humor.
But, really, what's so surprising?
Since ancient times, these monkeys in crowns—fake gentlemen—are just like cockroaches: try as you might, you'll never get rid of them all.
Hence that saying: "Mouth full of righteousness, stomach full of filth."
So what's a girl to do? Sarah felt a bit vexed.
Because she'd noticed a bullshit trait about herself.
Kinda like Conan, you know?
Wherever Conan shows up, someone's bound to die.
Wherever she goes, some asshole is guaranteed to pop up.
Did she have some magnet for attracting grade-A jerks to act up wherever she went?
Sarah couldn't help but fall into a spiral of self-doubt.
