The Aftermath Beneath the Silent Roadside Trees
"What's your name?"
A stillness held Julian D'Aurelius as daylight thinned. Dust hung in the air, lifted minutes ago by shouts and motion. A soft wind tugged at his dark hair. His gaze - sharp, gold-colored - did not leave the figure bent low ahead. Silence stretched between them.
The captured assassin swallowed.
His throat moved nervously as if the simple act of speaking required immense courage.
His voice trembled.
"I… I'm Hemil."
The man spoke softly, almost like a defeated animal forced to lower its head before a predator.
Hemil answered quietly.
In front of this powerful man, the will to resist had already collapsed within him.
A dull knife against a war blade.
A weak horse trying to outrun a thunderstorm.
How could he possibly fight someone like this?
Julian's body suddenly trembled slightly.
His brows tightened.
Damn… it actually matches?
His mind raced rapidly.
This fucking plot is getting ridiculous.
