I raised my hand and clamped May’s chin, lifting it to inspect her face closely. One glance was enough to tell—it was a fresh injury, no more than half an hour old at most. Before May could react and struggle, I released her.

Wane handed me a handkerchief. “Dirty.”

I took it and wiped my hand, my tone dripping with mockery.“I must be amazing. So much time has passed, yet the slap mark is still this fresh—like it was just done.”

A guilty look flashed across May’s face, but she still replied with forced confidence,“That’s because you hit me too hard. And after I applied medicine, I had an allergic...