Just a few steps away, Barrett turned back to the window, still standing there.

The call in his hand ended abruptly, his gaze falling upon Zoe. It wasn't warm nor cold, just the ordinary look one would give to a stranger.

Zoe glanced at him, or perhaps it was just her eyes scanning over him.

The four to five centimeters grim wound on his forehead from yesterday had been stitched up. Now, it was covered with bandages, concealing the scars underneath, making his injuries less gruesome.

However, it still counted as a serious injury, as his complexion appeared rather pale, even his lips showing signs of paleness.

It had been...